Leave Me Breathless
by Alex Wert
Summary: Best VampScooby fic I've ever read, says Miss Edith AKA Serrafina. This is an exploration of the darkness that exists within everyone. 7 parts.
1. No More Tears

** Author Notes:** Set between "Older and Far Away" and "As You Were".

* * *

She didn't hear him coming. It wasn't like those movies where the victim walks slowly down the alley, the unseen assailant's footsteps echoing in time with hers, echoing off the filthy, stained brick and concrete. She was capable of hearing even the quietest rush of a drawn breath and, if she strained, the slow, steady ebb and drone of a beating heart. There was none of that, though. She didn't hear him. She couldn't hear him. And she didn't need to. She _felt_ him. In her bones she could feel it. The changes in air pressure as he moved and the _je ne sais quois_ of his stare burrowing into her back.

"Please stop following me."

Her voice contained none of the coy arrogance she reserved for the balance of night's vile creatures. Instead it was the epitome of gloom, fear, and sorrow. The short sentence was followed by an even shorter sigh. She stopped, barely tilting her head to the side as she stood still on the well groomed grass of the cemetary.

There was a sound, the first of the night from him. Not directly from him, though. A cigarette lighter clicked open and a flame was lit. The embers of the burning cancer-stick glowed a brilliant red as he sucked the toxins into his lungs with an unnecessary breath.

"It's my right, luv. You are trespassing on my front yard."

"Spike, I don't need to be bothered by you right now," Buffy said, still not looking at him. She knew what he looked like. She knew what too much of him looked like. "I'm working." Buffy took two steps forward. "And I never need to be bothered by you." She started walking away again.

Spike replied in his Sweet 'N Low British accent, just loud enough for Buffy to hear. "Just _hot and bothered_ every now and again?"

That hurt. Buffy knew that Spike knew that it was like a fist in the gut for her. She had already been slaying for hours and, despite her vehement denials to her friends, the action did get her worked up, or at least it used to. Now that it didn't there was only one thing that did - and Spike knew it. Buffy's walk slowed as she felt her eyes water, her knees grow weak. She knew with every fiber in her being that what she was going to do now was wrong. Not just wrong, but immoral and disgusting. But that wasn't going to stop her.

"Let me walk you home, Buffy," said Spike as he sauntered over to her, draping his leather clad arm over her quivering shoulder.

Buffy felt a pang of disappointment with his words, words that implied she wasn't going to get what she wanted. As Spike lead her to his crypt the disappointment changed to nausea; she realized that she _was_ going to get it. It _was_ home, _his_ home (and slowly becoming hers too). They climbed down the steps into their darkness.

* * *

Tears and bruises. She always noticed them in the morning. They were his gift to her as they had been almost every night since her expulsion from heaven and refusal to meet the real world. The bruises were from him and they stayed for a while, even on a Slayer. Spike was strong and rough, and she liked it that way. She liked the pain. It made her feel. The weather was getting cold and she could hide the bruises easily enough. 

Spike held her softly in his sleep. She could feel his lips against the back of her skull, the disconcerting lack of breath on her neck when they cuddled like this. There was no heat from his body, no beating in his chest when it was pressed against hers. He was a corpse. She was one too. Except when she cried.

Buffy hated herself every minute when she was with this man - thing (and wasn't getting her brains fucked out). She probably would have hated herself then as well but she was hardly capable of higher thought at those times. Self loathing. That was an emotion, right? Right?... Maybe the tears weren't from him afterall.

Her battered body ached when he hugged her a little tigher. She softly wiped away the residue from her eyes before it could dry.

* * *

"You could stay for a bit!" Spike yelled as Buffy opened the crypt's solid iron gate. "The Niblett's away for the weekend. You don't have to rush back." Spike was only partially dressed as he hurried after Buffy into the early morning twilight. He covered himself in a blanket in case he found himself caught outside for just a little too long. He tried to pull the blanket around his shoulders, bare where his wife-beater ended, but what little remained of the blanket after the previous night chose not to cooperate with him. Buffy walked away from him without looking back. "I mean, it doesn't have to be like this." He closed his eyes and regrouped his jumbled thoughts. Why was it that your mind was at it's most rampant when you most needed it calm? All the scientists who insisted it was chemical could go to hell, as far as he was concerned. He was in no better shape and his body didn't have any chemistry, unless you counted interactions with peroxide. "Bollocks," he muttered under his breath, which was a funny saying considering he didn't breathe. "Buffy. Why don't you stay? We could do the things that normal couples do." His voiced cracked. "The things that you deserve. And I don't mean the early morning quickie." His voice rose to a high tremble and he coughed. "I mean breakfast, watching the news... talk..." He raised his eyes to meet hers when he heard her stop and turn around. 

"Why would I want to?"

"Because I was hoping you liked me, and wanted to..." Spike waved his hand in the air as he searched for the right words, "...be with me. In a non-sexual or beating the living daylights out of me sort of way."

Buffy looked mad. Her fists were clenched and she was shaking ever so slightly. Spike knew that body language well. Usually the shaking was from fear - or at least it used to be - fear from his victims before he snuffed out their worthless lives. Now it was anger, but maybe still fear. He didn't enjoy it as much as he once did.

They stood there for precious seconds as the sun was making its presence known at the horizon. Spike, looking disheveled and filthy, covered in the rags of a blanket, staring at a furious, hurt, confused, and small Slayer, felt the need to get his closure on the subject before bursting into flames.

"Why do you hate me so much?"

The question caught Spike by surprise almost as much as it did Buffy. Her eyes closed for an excruciatingly long moment before she answered, never again looking at Spike's face.

"I don't hate you, Spike. I hate what I become when I'm with you."

Buffy turned and, as she did so often these days, walked away from Spike, softly chastizing herself. Eyes closed.

"Buffy!"

He tried to warn her. He tried to protect her. He saw it. She didn't. It came at her from her left side, slamming into her even as she turned with another verbal jab directed toward Spike on her lips. Spike leapt through the air, grabbing the Suvolte demon around the neck as it bent down over the stricken girl. Spike could see flashes of purple and green behind his eyes. He was strong and quick and he was enraged at what the demon had done to his love. He was no match for a Suvolte demon on any given night, but today was not any given night. He had failed Buffy once before. There was no way he was going to let this thing kill her. His very own unlife he pledged in that second. Spike rammed the ruined blanket down the demon's throat. It's long neck swiveled to bite at the furious vampire but it could not close it's jaws. Spike was thrown to the ground. More green and purple. He rolled out of the way as the Suvolte's claw pounded into the grass where Spike had fallen. Spike reached for the stake that had found it's way to the ground beside Buffy, who was wreathing in agony, clutching her wounds as blood poured from her chest onto the ground, staining the grass a dark shade of red. Spike ignored the welling up in his eyes at the sight of her lying there. He grabbed the stake and plunged it into the demon with all his strength.

The neutered vampire would have enjoyed tearing the once powerful demon limb from limb, relishing the destruction he could still bring to whatever his chip would let him. Today he wasn't even sure if it was dead at all when he dropped the stake and ran to Buffy's side. She was covered in her own blood, smeared over her pastel blowse and down half of her leg. Her hands where she had tried to staunch the blood flow were a deep red to her elbows. Her blonde hair was matted with red. She was shivering and drawing in short, rapid breaths.

"Come on, Buffy! I'm getting you to a hospital." Spike gathered up the Slayer in his arms and stumbled a bit under her weight. He turned to the east and was blinded by the early morning radiance peeking out over the hills. He felt pain on his lumpy face and could see smoke rising from his own flesh.

"Bloody Hell!" Spike shielded his eyes and ducked. It was hard to scamper on all fours while carrying a wounded girl. Spike's mind raced. There was no way he was going to get her to a hospital in the sunlight. If he left her out there she had a chance of being found by passers by, but not a very good one. And if she died she would be alone, without her friends or family, just strangers. She had an almost perfect death the first time, fighting the good fight, saving her 'sister's life, surrounded by friends. He couldn't let her death be alone or surrounded by strangers. Pulling Buffy's limp body over his shoulder, he scampered back into his crypt.

She lay there. Oh, how he wished she would move. Wished she would do something to make him believe that she could be alright. But she didn't. Spike wasn't a doctor - he'd eaten a few - but it didn't take much to realize that Buffy's time was running out. The blood flowing from her side was dark and slow, the beats of her heart fading. He cupped her head between his bloody hands and pressed his mouth against hers. He tasted her blood on his lips and in his mouth. He had longed, pined for so long to taste her. He had imagined her to taste sweet and salty and full of raw steel from the iron in her blood and the power that had been given her. Instead it tasted like death, painful and cold. It was bitter and rotten and it stung his mouth and burned his throat.

He couldn't lose her. He couldn't again. The first time he would have ended his undead life if he hadn't made a promise to protect Dawn. This time it he could end it right here when she died but his release from sorrow still wouldn't come soon enough...

Love makes you do foolish things. Things that are wrong and hurtful. Things that you normally wouldn't do. Some are romantic gestures of a great powerful emotion. Others are dying gasps of desperation before feeling terrible loss.

Spike knew what he needed to do.

* * *

Willow ran for the door when she heard the key turn in the lock. She was alone in the house. Being alone in the house sucked. Not having Tara there was bad enough, but on days like this when Buffy was a no show it was even worse. All sorts of bad had happened to Buffy recently - to all of them. Willow prayed to the Goddess for her safe return. And to HaShem, just in case she was right the first time. Better safe than sorry. 

"Here!" yelled Xander as he and Dawn made their way through the door. "Hey, Will," he said chipperly, noticing Willow but not the worried look on her face. His was followed by an unenthusiastic, "Hey," from Dawn.

"Buffy here?"

Red hair waved in the air as Willow shook her head. "Nuh-uh, and I'm getting worried. She hasn't been back all day and it's getting late. No one's seen her since she went for patrol last night. It's major spooky and I'm scared."

Brief pause. Count on Dawn to be the first to make a comment about Buffy not being there.

"Yeah, like she's never just disappeared without telling anyone before."

"Dawn-" Xander began his defense of Buffy.

"Well?" prodded Dawn.

Much handwaving. Xander shrugged a bit. "That's mean, Dawn. True, but mean."

That got Dawn looking smug. If you can't get people to listen to you, you might as well revel in being right. It's pretty much all Dawn got these days, other than lectures on kleptomania. As if being a thief was that big a deal when you live with two witches and the Slayer. Or at least one witch.

Xander walked over to the kitchen. "If you guys, uh... girls, need me here I can call Anya, cancel our plans for tonight."

"Would you?" pleaded an obviously distressed Willow. "You're the best, Xander."

"Sure, I'm always here." Xander sipped a 7-Up from the fridge as he walked back in the room."What's a night of yummy, naked love compared to chick-flicks with my little, girly buds?"

"You could at least keep it PG-13," said Willow, jabbing a thumb in Dawn's direction. Dawn made a face. How quickly they forget what they were like at her age.

"I'll give her a call." Xander went to get the phone.

_Knock, knock_.

Willow ran for the door again. "Please let it be Buffy," fell in a whisper from her lips. She pulled back the curtain. "Spike!" It was a yell of disappointment, confusion, anger, and several other things. Hatred was probably one of them. She threw the door open anyway.

"What do you want?" she demanded.

"Easy, Pet. You'd better sit down." Spike drew a long, deep, useless breath. He tilted his head. His eyes moved from the floor to the ceiling, never meeting Willow's or, espcecially, Dawn's. Some human habits you lose when you become a cold-blooded evil vampire. Some not so much.

"What is it?" Dawn had rushed to the door by then. Leaning on the frame she begged Spike to hurry. She was the only person in the world who trusted him. Another one of the things that made her life complicated and sucky.

Spike banged the side of his fist against the door frame. He had to do this. Eyes to the floor. "There was an accident." Another procrastination breath.

Xander didn't like Spike as much as Dawn did. "Hurry up and spit it out so we can all go on with our lives."

"There's the rub. We were attacked in the early morning. Right before sunup..."

Willow interupted. "Is she okay? Where is she?"

There. She peeked out from behind the tree in the yard. She looked like shit. All pale and staring off blankly into space. There was no focus in her eyes, though Willow could swear Buffy was looking straight at her. Slowly Buffy walked up the stairs to the door. She stopped beside Spike.

"What happened? She doesn't look that bad." Willow saw a pained expression cross Buffy's face. Maybe it was worse than she initially thought. But her demeanor changed too. What was that?

Dawn didn't notice any of that. "You gonna stand there all night? Come in already," she said, turning away from her sister.

Spike and Buffy walked in. Something was wrong. Willow knew it but couldn't place it and there was no way Xander was going to figure it out. She looked at Buffy from head to toe but couldn't see a wound on her as she walked. Blonde hair, all mussed up, a few scratches on her face, all her bones looked intact. Willow could see that her jacket had been roughed up and that there was grass and dirt on the back. She did seem a bit on the pale side for California. Then she noticed them. Two little scabbed over holes at the base of her neck. Willow's blood began to boil over.

"You monster!" She yelled at Spike. Willow rushed him. Even took a swing at him. Xander saw what Will saw seconds before and he too rushed to attack the vampire. Dawn stood beside her sister in shock at what was happening.

"Hold up a bit!" Spike caught Willow's forearm. He was lucky Willow was trying not to use magic. Willow took another swing with her other fist. It was then that she saw something she didn't immediately understand. On Spike's neck, at the base where it met the shoulder, were two fresh fang punctures as well.

She got it. And she cried.

Buffy stopped Xander before he could attack Spike with his stake. She reached out and turned both Willow and Xander toward her. Chills flowed up Willow's arm when Buffy touched her. They weren't the good kind of chill.

Buffy's hands went to the hem of her own shirt now. She slowly raised it halfway. She had a fatal wound.


	2. Daytime Dramas

The next day was almost as bad. Willow, Xander, Dawn, and Anya were sitting in the Magic Box arguing about what to do. Buffy and Spike were still at her house, sleeping away the day.

They take for granted the daylight through which they have walked to reach the store. They ignore the confusion of change. They forget the pain of being abandoned.

Eventually they settle on phoning Giles and Angel.

* * *

She stared at the TV. How was that for a momentous occasion? The first activity of her unlife as a vampire was watching daytime dramas. As if All My Children held the answers to all the questions. 

Spike was there beside her. He hadn't said anything to her in a while. At all really. Not since the morning. Just a few neutral comments during Passions about plotlines.

Spike's hand was on her thigh.

"Spike, no!"

He withdrew his hand like it had been scalded.

"Sorry, Buffy. I'm not sure what would be appropriate. I've never been in this situation before."

"And how do you think I feel?" said Buffy. Her hands tightened on the remote. "There are things I want to do now. Really want to do now, but they're bad." Silent tears started to run down her face.

Spike wrapped his arms around her forgetting the burn of just seconds ago. "There, there luv. It's just natural for who you are now. It's a shock at first..." his eyes narrowed, and a mischevious grin slowly split his face, "but you'll soon find that it's a lot more fun than you've been having."

"NO!" Buffy shouted and threw Spike's arms off of her. He was both shocked and not at the same time.

"You're not like any vampire I've ever met."

"I'm not a vampire! I'm the slayer! I'm... I'm... supposed to try to kill myself now... or something?" She shrugged. Confusion was replaced with a scowl on Buffy's face. "I hate it, I hate it, I hate it."

"Nice mantra."

"Look, I don't want to talk about this now. Just lay off." Buffy got up off the couch.

Spike looked after her as she walked out of the room waving her hand back at him in a dismissive way. "Where are you going?"

"I'm just hungry, okay? Leave me alone." Buffy stormed off into the kitchen.

* * *

Spike continued to watch the tv. He wasn't really interested though. The show just hadn't been the same since Kendall Hart left. He turned the volume down low. Spike wasn't in the mood for loud whining right now. 

How could he screw this up any more? When Buffy first awoke after the attack Spike had been hopeful that, as his Childe, he and Buffy would be closer. Now he could barely touch her without Buffy getting violent. That wasn't anything new in itself, but now hostility radiated from her. The compassion, the want, even the pity was gone.

He cradled his head in his hands. He was a vampire. He was supposed to be evil and selfish. He was supposed to bite vampire slayers. He was supposed to turn people and like it. So why was this tearing him apart inside? The agonizing twists and turns keep coming when you're in love with Buffy Summers.

He made a monster from the only person he truly loved.

Spike closed his eyes to be alone with his pain. Some time passed with him in this position. Buffy had not returned. But there was a sound from the kitchen. It was quiet. Almost imperceivable. He turned to the sound. It was soft sobbing.

Spike went to Buffy. She was standing over the kitchen counter, sheathed in the darkness afforded by the closed curtains. In front of her was a plastic cup of yoghurt, the messy pink spoon still held loosely in her hand. She was crying to herself.

"It tastes funny."

* * *

She held her hand against her head. The confusion was just overwhelming her. She struggled to clench her fist in front of her face as if she were going to hit something, but it just shook there softly, clenching and unclenching a few times. 

Willow stood behind her, arms crossed, trying to look sympathetic. Really she was trying to look anything but scared.

"Will, I can't take this. I don't know what I'm supposed to be." Willow tentatively rubbed her shoulder.

"It's okay, Buffy. We'll get you through this." It was like petting a rattlesnake.

"If you say so," Buffy said dejectedly. She smelled warm flesh filled with salty, iron-rich goodness... _No! Bad! Bad! Stop wanting to eat your friends!_

"Come on. We've been through worse and come through okay." _Do you really tire of this life that much that you want me to eat you?_

Buffy turned around and looked at Willow skeptically.

"Will, I'm undead. I think even Xander could figure out that this isn't a happy day."

Willow pondered this a bit. "You've been dead twice before. Granted you weren't all walking around and stuff after, but that could only be considered of the good."

"Third time's the charm and all that."

"Well, that's how the saying goes. But, I've discovered that it's really more like four," Willow rambled the way she always did when she was tense. Buffy wondered if Willow knew it made her less appetizing. "..And then you get to five which is just a bad number all around except that it's good for counting if you're a Roman but as far as charms go I find that the Guru Ablabahb makes the best charms all things considered..." _This one time, at band camp..._ "...if a little pricey."

"You done?"

"I think."

"You know, I wanted to eat you several times during this conversation." Willow looked scared for the first time since Buffy was turned. It's amazing how you can delude yourself of something you know is true until someone spells it out for you.

Willow responded in typical ramble fashion. "But not in the good, wholesome feasting at the Y sort of way, I'm guessing, though I probably shouldn't have said that part and I know I'm trying not to, to make light of all this and all, but I can't think of anything to say so I'll shut up now."

Buffy reached out to Willow's shoulder. She flinched. Buffy sighed a little sigh and turned away again. "I must be really horrible if my best friend is scared of me."

"Hey, give me a break. I'm scared of all vampires except Angel and, and Spike, but that's only because he's harmless and neutered and all that now." A few moments of tense silence. "And, and I don't know if you're all evil and stuff."

Buffy turned to face her again.

"I mean, I know, slayer and all, force of goodness and everything that's in the job description. But I remember when I met you and Jesse got turned. Giles said that 'You have to remember that when you see him, you're not looking at your friend. You're looking at the thing that killed him.' I don't know if you're you."

Buffy took a step toward her. Willow probably thought that there was some intention of hostility or some revelation or something. But really Buffy was just pacing. "Then again, a lot of vampires are like they were in life. I mean, look at you. You've sorta been there before."

Willow scowled. "If you're like I was, with the tight leather and the licking and groping and disgustingness, I think I'm going home."

"Uh, no, Will. No disgustingness. I think I'm still me."

"That's good."

_But I'm not._

* * *

Xander is sitting in the couch in front of Buffy's newest coffee table. They've gone through a lot of them over the years. They keep the Sunnydale furniture stores open, as he often said. But it's not funny. It's expensive. But Xander had a good job and had money, so he never really worried about it. "And if you ever need anything you know I'm always here for you." He steepled his fingers in front of him and attempted to smile. He was the good guy, the heart and soul of the team. Everyone loved good-natured, warm, fuzzy, goofy Xander. Today he was here to take Dawn away to his apartment. It was to protect her from Buffy, just in case. 

"Thanks."

It was daytime and all the blinds were shut. A sliver of sunlight traced over Xander's shoulder through the thin slit between the curtains. Buffy sat far back at the other side of the room, bathed in incandescent light.

"You know," Xander started, looking at the carpet and strumming his fingers on the upholstry, "I can't imagine a world without you. It's happened before and every time it does, loads of suckage. I know that things may never be the same and we're all in for a rough ride, but I'm just glad you're still here."

To Buffy he just looked yummy. He did make a good point though.

"I wouldn't want to live in a world without me either."

"Are you okay?" Xander asked. Of course the answer was no.

"I'm fine."

"If you insist, Buff. I wouldn't be fine if this happened to me. But you haven't tried to bite me yet, so that means you're acting normal, though disappointing to all my high school era fantasies."

"Eww!" Dawn came running down the stairs toting a duffelbag full of clothes. "Don't want to hear about it. I'm packed!" she said, a bit louder than she intended. Then again, it made sense for her to be enthusiastic about leaving. Dawn always took every opportunity to get away from her, so it made sense even more now that she was a vampire.

Xander stood and guided Dawn to the door.

"I'll give you a call later tonight," Xander said. Dawn pulled open the door letting the light stream in from the outside. Buffy stood well back.

"Bye Buffy. Get well." What was that look on Dawn's face. Hatred? Confusion? Pity? Possibly apathy.

Xander shrugged.

"Don't be too hard on her. She's had to deal with a lot. Almost as much as you."

He moved into the darkness away from the door and embraced Buffy in a hug. "Take care," he said.

She sniffed back a tear then crinkled her forehead.

"Have you been eating garlic?"

"No, no, not at all. Well, yes."

* * *

"...No... Giles, no," Willow said into the phone. Her right finger was pressed into her ear. Reception wasn't very good overseas. "I didn't want to have to tell you this either but I did... I'm sorry... Are you alright? I - I mean of course not, but y'know, relatively speaking? Like lasting the next couple of days, sorta, thing?" She tugged at a lock of red hair with her phone hand. Willow could picture Giles. It was horrible, she imagined. Change the hair colour, length and gender and all that and she was sure he was looking better than she was right now. "Anything else that can help me, uh... us, I mean - her, Buffy, through this?" Willow cursed softly to herself away from the mouthpiece, "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck... " and louder again to Giles, "Damnit. I'm lost here. I don't know what to do... Yeah, I know you don't either. Please, Giles. Just hang tight, okay? We'll see you soon." 

Willow hit the off button on the wireless. The beep just wasn't satisfying enough. She winced her face and screamed. The phone smashed into peices against the wall. That was a metaphor for her life, wasn't it? Shattered into a million shards of so much low quality plastic. And how much of that was herself? Delicate, happy, sweet, innocent Willow's rage and greed. Lousy evil.

She stormed off to find Xander. They needed a warroom meeting ASAP. She tried his apartment's line on Buffy's sole surviving phone. It was busy. She kicked the wall in frustration. At least she didn't have to worry about disturbing Buffy. Her friend (and possible evil demonic force) was sleeping like a stone in the basement. Buffy should be fine there. Vampires like cold, dark, bare floored and walled rooms to sleep away the day in their coffins. Willow didn't think Buffy would miss her for a few hours. She rushed out to her car, not noticing the gathering stormclouds overhead. She needed to find Xander.

As Willow drove at breakneck speed to the upscale apartment across town, Giles' words echoed ceaselessly in her head. He seemed timid and freakily happy that she was calling him. It hurt her so much to tell him, it really did. Willow knew she nearly couldn't, and was within half a second's worth of thumb motion to cutting off the call before she told him. When Giles had finally retrieved the phone from where it lay on the floor and began speaking again it was as though the warm-hearted man had died, and was replaced with his reanimated corpse. He displayed less life than Buffy. It was always his nightmare and now it was true. And Willow was the messenger. Hell must have a special place for her now. If she had any say in it they'd be prepping her room as she drove.

Willow's eyes were bleary as she raced down Xander's street. She knocked over someone's mailbox and didn't notice. She hit a dog in the street and she just didn't care.

* * *

Xander was still on the phone to Los Angeles. The old vampire sure was stubborn. Xander wanted to add pigheaded, arrogant and stupid to the list. It wasn't fair, he knew, but for Pete's sake, they were talking about Buffy here and he didn't even want to see her. "Look, for fuck's sake, man," he yelled at Angel, "I don't like you, and you don't like me, but we both love her and, as much as I hate to admit it, she needs you now, more than ever... How can you say that? It's Buffy...Yes it is!" Xander couldn't believe it. Angel of all people should be the one to see past the whole demon, evil thing. He only had one other card to play, and it was an offsuit nine. "What about Spike? He's an evil vampire if there ever was one and God help us, he's on our side. Buffy deserves infinitely more trust than him." Stalin would deserve more trust than Spike, but that wasn't the point. 

"Thank you!" And with that, Xander slammed down the phone. Angel was on his way.

There was furious banging on his door. He rushed to open it. Willow was standing, soaked head to toe, her hair matted to her forehead, gray tracksuit dark and muddy looking. Tears streamed down her face from her bloodshot eyes. She rushed inside and hugged him tight. Xander pulled her in softly and closed the door behind her.

As Xander lead her over to the couch, Dawn and Anya came in from the other room.

"What's wrong? What's happening?" Dawn shrieked. It did look bad.

Willow sniffed a bit and wiped her eyes with her sleeve.

"I was just talking to Giles. It's bad. And I'm worried about him. He's, he's a wreck. When I told him he dropped the phone and didn't pick up for 10 minutes. He sounded like he did when Miss Calendar died, only worse. I'm at my wit's end."

"And your phone bill is gonna be pretty high this month."

"Xander!"

Xander hugged down on Willow a little harder.

"I'm sorry, Will. It's just the way I cope. Yeah, it sucks, I know."

He felt Anya's hand land on his shoulder. She was about to pipe up in her unwelcome fashion. He could feel it. "What?" She asked, genuinely confused. "I don't see what the big deal is. So Buffy's an evil demon now. I was too and I turned out okay, all nice and lovable and goody-goody. She'll be fine."

Hostility rained down on her.

"You bitch!" was Dawn's retort, her distaste with Anya boiling over into anger. Dawn launched herself at Anya's throat.

"Little help," croaked out Anya as Dawn's fingers kneaded their way into her jugular.

Xander let go of Willow and pried Dawn off his girlfriend. "Behave yourselves, both of you." He stared them down. They timidly shrunk away from his steely glare.

"Now, Will," Xander's tone suddenly soft again, "what did Giles tell you?" Unlike so many girls Willow was never openly over-emotional. Xander knew his best friend better than he knew himself - she was excessively introverted and closed up with her emotions. His gut told him that there was no good news coming.

"Giles can't help us," Willow sniffed. One huge breath later... "Okay, calm Willow, calm. Breathe...whoo, whoo... This has never happened before, not to a Slayer. Most vampires would rather kill than turn a Slayer, and no Slayer would ever willingly drink - share blood with a vampire to complete the siring. This was wrong, it was never meant to happen. Only because of Spike's chip and his love for Buffy and, I guess, Buffy's feelings for Spike, and then the circumstances with him trying to help her... But she's still a vampire now. She's evil."

"What do you mean Buffy's feelings for Spike?" asked Xander.

"You're fucking clueless," mumbled Dawn.

Xander slouched. "True. Soul restoration spell?"

Willow tried to shrug but her shoulders refused to move. "It's not that simple. There are some extenuating circumstances about Buffy being the Slayer."

"Hence already having a certain amount of demony content?"

"And the fact that she's died a couple of times already," Willow added. "Plus I'm - I'm not up for any magic right now," she sighs, hurting from Tara's leaving, "and Giles said he didn't think it was even applicable now."

"When's Giles coming?"

"I don't know if he is. He had to go to the hospital first. He broke his hand punching the wall. I really couldn't get that much out of him."

"Great. You mean we're on our own for this?" Willow nodded a depressed yes. "Wonderful. Just what we didn't need." Who do you turn to when the people you always turn to aren't there? There's yourself, which Xander was terrified of. For badness of epic proportions he knew he wasn't up to the task. That was Buffy's job. Except she's the epic badness this time. And the only help he could count on was the one man he most hated to rely on. "Angel is coming. He'll be here before sunrise."

* * *

Her friends were acting all strange. Sure, they all tried to be nice and upbeat, but it was a badly played sham, she could tell. She could smell them sweat, hear it in their voices as their larynxes constricted early and tight when they spoke. Except Anya. She was still the same, but she wasn't pulling any punches either. 

"Look on the bright side. Now you can invest all your money in safe and reliable interest earning accounts and long term stocks and be able to enjoy it as it matures and grows over the next hundred years." Anya was very chipper about it. Buffy watched as Anya reached into her oversized purse and pulled out a stack of file folders and brochures. "Here, I've already put together a sample portfolio for you with conservative estimates of earnings by year and hypothetical market recessions which, as you can see, you'll be able to ride out easily."

Damn it, she was annoying. Slightly useful, but annoying. Though not as annoying as everyone else, trying to be all sugar sweet and psychological.

"Not now, Ahn," interupted Xander before Anya could lauch into the details. "Buffy doesn't need financial advice right now. She needs our support."

"There you go again! I do not need your support!" Buffy yelled. Dawn dropped the plate she was washing in the kitchen. It shattered to a hundred pieces on the floor. Dawn peeked around the door but was too scared to enter the room.

"I can take care of myself, and all this smothering is only going to get me wanting to rip your throats out more."

Willow reached out to Buffy. She slapped away Willow's hand with violent force. "Don't you dare try to touch me!" Buffy hissed. "Any of you. You don't know what I am. What it's like."

"Buffy?"

"Shut up. Don't even try. You'll just fuck it up. Like always." Willow's eyes became pools of tears. Buffy could see the hurt she was causing. And she deserved it. Buffy was going to enjoy crushing her spirits like a bug. "Selfish bastards! You can't deal with anything on your own. You always need to come running to Buffy. Evil demon? Get help from Buffy. Trouble at home? Get help from Buffy. Infected hangnail? Get help from Buffy. What are you going to do when I grow tired of you and get on with my life? Die, surely. Even in death I'm sure you'll still come running to me for help. You've done it before. You'll see what happens when you don't let sleeping dogs lie. And it's a lot worse than getting bit." Buffy sneered at the four of them, all chilled to the bone. Buffy relished the pure enjoyment of inflicting this pain, and fought the smile that threated to split her face open. It was a far cry from all the smiles she had been forcing as recently as yesterday. "Good riddence," she spat, with venom dripping figuratively from her mouth.

She turned, and slammed right into Angel's chest. His hands gripped her wrists like vice-grips.

"We need to talk."

* * *

They all sat around the dinner table. It was awkward, that's for sure. The bile still sat in all their throats from Buffy's tirade. She had done wrong, she knew it, but why did it feel so good? In her now unbeating heart she knew why, though. 

"But when Jesse was turned Giles said that he was already dead, it was just the demon that remained," said Willow with worry in her voice as the group continued their discussion on good people turned bad.

"That's not entirely true, Willow," replied Angel, "You of all people should know that most of the original human personality remains, the memories, the emotions toward people, if not the intent of those emotions."

"But the soul is gone, the loving, caring human being is replaced by an evil demon."

"Yes. In essence."

There was that, for sure. The only thing coursing through her veins now was evil. It was all her remaining consciousness could do to keep that in check most of the time.

"Though they aren't all the same," continued Angel.

"How so?" from Dawn.

"I was totally evil. I revelled in destuction and causing pain and misery."

"We remember." It wasn't just Buffy who spoke with rage tonight. Xander had the bug too. She hid her cruel smile from the group.

"Others aren't the same," Angel explained. "There are passive demons, like the Sasquatch, even benevolent demons. I have one on staff."

"You mean like Clem?" asked Dawn.

"I don't know who that is... What I'm saying is that, even though the demons risen in vampires are, unfortunately, always evil, we aren't always bent on torturing the innocent or destroying the world. Harmony is an example of this."

"Uh?" Willow was less than impressed. "The first time she saw me she tried to eat me. No."

"That's probably because she doesn't like you. Again, we keep our memories and most of our personality."

Buffy kept her resentment. She had her everything, and it was taken away from her by her so-called friends. It wasn't the demon that wanted her to torment them. It was the Buffy. _I'm the evil one_. Buffy closed her eyes. Causing pain isn't as much fun when your excuse sucks.

"Harmony even tried to be good. Her demon was weak, her will was stronger than you'd expect. She eventually succumbed to it, and, unfortunately, Spike, but if your demon is like hers - Buffy, look up," Angel held her by the chin and lifted her head to face him, "we should be able to help you interact non-destructively and lead a normal life."

_Yeah right_, was her mind's response. The ground seemed like a damned good option at this time. And maybe going out with a post office style killing spree would be fun. Except that would probably put her not where she was last time she was dead. If anywhere at all.

"Can we be alone for a sec, guys?"

"Sure Buff. Come on, Dawn." Xander lead the others away, leaving Buffy and Angel together facing each other across the table.

"I don't know if I can do this," said Buffy quietly when she was sure the others had gone far enough so they couldn't hear. "I wigged on everyone just before you got here. It wasn't pretty."

"I know. I saw."

Buffy couldn't help but smile. "I should have figured. You always had a talent for showing up without a sound. How'd you do it?"

"Years and years of practice. I can't even remember how not to do it anymore." Subconsciously her hands felt out his. They grasped together, fingers entwined. It was the first time they didn't feel cold.

"I've done this before."

"Of course we have. We used to do this all the time."

"No, not this, silly," said Buffy. "I mean struggled against being a vampire."

"I don't-"

"We were living out our nightmares. I remember Xander was being chased by a clown. This was Giles'. I fought it and I beat it. But that was just a dream, wasn't it? Just a dream..." She sobbed. She was right before. She couldn't do this.

"Oh. No," whispered Angel. He vaulted over the table and took her in his arms, trying to console her.

"I've said too much."

"I haven't said enough."

Angel kissed her on the forehead and cradled her head against his shoulder. It felt nice for Buffy to be intimate without violent sex involved. Angel was right there in front of her, she wanted him. She craved him. She needed to have him so badly...

"Ah!" Angel drew in a gasp with a hiss through his teeth. Letting go of Buffy instantly he drew a hand to his neck where blood was slowly trickling down. His eyes locked with Buffy's yellow ones. She could see the shock and horror on his face as he raised his fingers in front of him, still unable to believe the wound her fangs tore open in his neck. She didn't need to be able to see her own reflection in his eyes to know the mirror image expression was worn on her own transformed face.

"I'm sorry!"

She ran to her room, taloned hands over her crying eyes, drawing blood from her own forehead. It mixed into pink. She used to like pink.


	3. Pink Slip

"Hold on!" Spike yelled to whoever it was who was banging on his crypt's door. "In a minute." He muted his tv and opened the door, not really paying attention and _BAM!_ found himself quickly on his ass.

As Spike eased himself to his feet he was confronted by an enraged Angel, ready to go another round with his jaw.

"Spike, you bastard, I should kill you where you stand!"

Wanker was bloody pissed.

"Hold up, mate." Already crouched in a defensive posture, Spike was quick to attempt to weasel out of this fight. "I know we both know what this is 'bout, right, and I'm saying that I did what I had to do. And in my heart, which I know none of you think I have, I know I did right."

"You. Did. Right?" So much for defensive posturing and diffusing the situation. Spike found himself flung from the collar of his black t-shirt through the air. "How would _you_ know about right? All you've ever done is try to hurt people. You dare try to masqurade this as righteous?"

"I have to, O' Souled One. Or 'ave you forgotten?" Spike tapped the side of his head. "As much as I'd like to do the old evil bit, I can't any more than you can grow a sense of humour."

_I'm a masochist_, Spike decided as he received a boot to the head. He picked himself up from the smashed remains of his easy chair and removed the sharp plastic shard from his leg. He cracked his jaw back into alignment and rubbed his nose. And bled slowly on the floor, but that was another matter.

"You should have let her die," said Angel. "All you've done is stolen away from her any chance of being at peace. She'll never be able to accept herself as... as this demon bastardization." Angel looked like he was about to break. Spike would have been happy with himself if Angel wasn't striking a chord with him. Damned goody-two-shoes. "You do realize," Angel nearly whispered now, "that eventually she won't be able to stop herself. She'll go evil and we'll have to kill her."

"The thought had crossed my mind," Spike replied, "except for the having to kill her part." He gestured at Angel's brooding expression. "Evil, remember?" he said, pointing to himself. "I have no problem with the inevitability of her going all Scourge of Europe. In fact, I'm rather looking forward to it."

"And you'd let her become what she hates?"

"I did't let her. She let herself. You know as well as I do that it takes two to tango."

If looks could kill Spike would be dead right now, with the way Angel was staring at him. Although technically...

"Just what do you mean by that." Not a question. A statement.

"She already did," Spike replied, confidently.

"What?"

"Hate herself." Spike checked the wound in his leg. The blood was already clotted. "She already hated herself." Angel's fingers were at his throat before he knew it. Spike felt the back of his head bang roughly against the stone wall. "After Willow brought her back she felt empty and scared. She was pissed at the gang and unable to cope with all the shite she had to deal with." Angel looked like he began to realize the true complexity of the problem and let Spike down to his feet. "Which was why she started sleeping with me."

It's times like these when socialized health care seems like a good idea. And having fun at the Great Pouf's expense doesn't.

Spike spat the blood out of his esophagus.

"See what I mean?" He tried to crawl to all fours. "The sweet innocent girl you knew was gone long before she got to me. She's been asking for this for a while, she has." Spike tried to smile. The laboured grin was quickly wiped off his face by the hard kick to the ribs he received.

"You are a selfish bastard, Spike. You could have let her just be at peace again."

From his prone position on the cold slab of stone, lying in his own still blood, Spike could only laugh yet again.

"And just the answer we'd expect from Broody Boy, who can't wait to get her out of his unlife, as fast as he possibly can, time and time again. Unlike some people, I want her in mine."

"I don't have time for your petty games. I have to get back to Buffy." Angel turned away from him and headed toward the door.

Spike, in the meantime, dragged himself to where his tv remote now lay amongst the wreckage of his chair. He turned up the volume.

Just as Angel was reaching for the door Spike called out over the noise. "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Without looking back Angel just said "Why?"

"Sunrise. Four minutes ago."

Angel cautiously opened the door a crack. As promised, early morning orange light cut a sharp beam into the corner. The door was hastily closed.

"Looks like we're stuck together, mate." Spike grinned devilishly when Angel finally met his eyes again. "D'you like Passions?"

* * *

_That's two straight days of missed classes_, thought Willow forelornly to herself while staring blankly at the tv. She wondered what they were doing today in psych, not really worrying since she could easily get the notes off one of the other four hundred people in the lecture, or she could just magically conjure up the exam answers at the end of the year. She really didn't care anymore. 

Willow clicked the remote absent mindedly. She must have missed when tv got so bad. Too much time spent away from it's warming glow, what with school and the fighting evil and preventing the end of the world and all. And the sex. And then the lack of sex, and the moping and whining about said same. Lousy magic. Lousy supernatural, err supernature?... Period. All this was too complicated. Not the right word, but she didn't want to think about the word "heartbreaking" right now. Also very bad for the academics, especially in the handful of courses where they take attendance. Hard to be there at class when you're busy trying to keep your formerly alive best friend from letting loose the evil incarnate within. Not too easy to get a doctor's note for that either.

She heard thumping coming up the stairs. That would be Buffy, braving the first floor windows in the mid afternoon, probably restless from her nap in the basement. Willow couldn't sleep at all, and she had been up for twenty-seven consecutive hours.

Willow heard Buffy's footsteps change pitch - she had reached the carpetted floor and was walking to the couch behind Willow. Still, Willow did not want to turn her head to look at her.

"Hey," came Buffy's raspy hello.

"Hey," Willow replied, still fixated on the tv, though she really wasn't paying attention to what was on.

"Where's Angel?"

"He had to go talk to some people and got stuck when the sun came up."

"Oh," Buffy sounded disappointed. "Do you know where and who?"

Lie. "No, he didn't say on the phone." Spike, likely not the best of influences right now. Or ever. But especially now.

"'Kay." She could hear Buffy shuffle her feet behind her, not really knowing what to do next. She went back and forth a couple of times before settling on the kitchen.

"Did you sleep?" Willow asked for some reason, though she wasn't really sure why. Awful question. Something like her mom would ask on the rare occasions they still talked, always over the phone.

Refrigerator opened. Then closed. "Not really. Don't know how to be tired in the daytime. Basement's kind of not sleep inducing." She sat down beside Willow. "But it's clammy and refreshingly cool down there. I never noticed that before." Willow noticed that Buffy looked thoughtful, and even a little more relaxed than lately. Out of the corner of her eye that was. She still wasn't looking directly at her. She was scared at what she would see.

They sat like that for minutes not saying anything, staring blankly at some lame game show. Or at least, Willow was staring at the tv. As she became aware of the lack of heat coming from Buffy and subconsciously drifted closer to her body so her brain could reassure itself that there actually was a room temperature person watching tv next to her, she realized that Buffy was staring down into her hands. She was holding a blood bag, the kind you see in hospitals. It was one of the things that Angel had brought from his personal supplies in Los Angeles. Sort of a care package.

Buffy must have noticed her looking at the blood bag. "I'm waiting for it to get to warm," she said.

Willow and Buffy looked at each other for the first time that day.

"Food just doesn't do it for me anymore."

"Why the warming?"

"Trying to procrastinate."

Still, Willow noted sadly, as much as she didn't like it, Buffy drank with long teeth bared.

* * *

"I'm going on patrol!" Buffy yelled to everyone and no one in particular. She was dressed up in her all black slaying outfit, complete with little black cap. No one would notice anything wrong if they weren't looking for it. She looked like the Buffy of old, all confident and full of pep. _Who am I trying to fool?_ She felt as different from that Buffy as her appearance matched said same. What kind of a slayer could she be as a demon? Someone should be hunting her down and dusting her, not the other way around. 

_NO! Bad thoughts, bad thoughts!_ She should be thinking positive, slayery thoughts instead of worry and moping and standing here in behind the door for way too long...

"Buffy, I don't think that's a good idea."

Crap.

Angel had returned shortly after sundown. His knuckles looked a little worse for wear. They were heavily scratched and were full of broken blood vessels beneath the thick callous. He must use them a lot during his everyday life, and moreso today. He didn't tell her where he had been. He even evaded her when she asked. No one would tell her. They were all keeping things hidden from her, or just Angel was. Either way it hurt. It didn't matter though. She knew exactly what he'd been doing. She could smell it. The scent of Spike's blood was all over his hands, alcohol and smoke from his clothes. Fifteen hours worth.

"Yeah, Buff. If word gets out that you're different things could get worse in a hurry," Xander pointed out with unusual insight. "We could get an influx of demons of the riotty sort."

"Guys, stop," Buffy said in frustration. "I'm going. It's something I need to do. And," with emphasis, "No big bads are going to figure it out and live to tell the tale. Now, if you'll excuse me."

Buffy remembered to slam the door on the way out.

"Good luck," offered Willow to the closed door.

* * *

"I'm worried," she said a few seconds later. "Buff's not been acting herself recently. She could do something... traumatic." 

Understatement. More like 'Apocalypse Now'ish, with less napalm but the same amount of gruesome human guts all over the place. And less Martin Sheen.

"Ya think?" said Xander, his sarcasm biting from his tongue even as he tried to bite it down. "We can't just let her go off on her own like that."

Angel spoke up as they all expected. "I'll follow her." He walked over to the window and peered through the blinds. Willow could see from where she stood behind him that Buffy was still visible but disappearing quickly into the darkness.

"You guys stay here. Have things nice for her for when she comes back. I'll make sure she doesn't get into any trouble."

And he was gone. Willow could have sworn she heard an echo in her head before the door closed. His whisper - "if I can."

* * *

From the shadows he watched her, her tiny dark form flitting in and out between the tombstones and the osuaries. It had been years since he'd done this - just watched her hunt. It had always been hunting, even though it was called patrol, with her seeking and destroying her prey. Those many years ago he had enjoyed watching her. She moved so well. Tonight there was no grace, no meandering detours to the dark corners where the young often chose to hide in wait. There was no enjoyment in watching her deliberately march toward the first childe she saw of the night. Angel's muscles tensed immediately, ready to vault into the frey at a moment's notice. Without hesitation she plunged her stake directly into her heart. There was a hiss of surprise and pain from the victim, then nothing but the sound of dust blowing in the cool breeze of night. 

He relaxed, a sigh falling from his lips. Closed his eyes. The first test was passed, but he only grew more anxious. That wasn't normal Buffy slaying behaviour. She usually liked to give them a chance.

When Angel's eyes opened again he realized he had been lost in thought for longer than he intended. Buffy was gone. He strained his ears and heard someone walking up ahead. He leapt to the roof of a small crypt for a higher vantage point. There, across the field was the source of the noise. Short, dressed all in black, blond.

It was Spike.

He was looking deep into the field ahead. There was Buffy, standing still above a freshly dug grave with flowers and a wreath. She was waiting. It wouldn't be long.

Angel crouched on his roof and turned his attention back to Spike. What sick plan did he have in store for everyone? He refused to believe that Spike honestly cared for Buffy's well-being. Alterior motive? Without a doubt.

Spike was leaning now against a tree, cigarette in hand. He took a deep drag, turned his head, then blew the smoke in Angel's direction. So, Spike knew he was there all along. The British vampire gave him a wink. Angel could only reply by turning away in disgust. He went back to watching Buffy.

Spike did not.

Angel tried to ignore him.

The ground parted in the distance, the vampire took in his first sight with his new eyes and returned to the dirt he came from. Buffy went on her way. Behind her, two ancient vampires followed.

Following along the trees on the west side of the field, Angel could see Spike mirror his movements on the east side. Spike gave him a smirk. Angel thought ruefully that Spike shouldn't be the one smirking, seeing as he still wore the cuts and bruises of the beating Angel had delivered to him.

Angel stopped in his tracks and turned to face Spike. Spike too stopped. What a bastard. Even with the troubling issues he still finds the time to play childish little games. Angel motioned for Spike to come to him. Instead Spike just did a little wave and started walking again.

Wait. Angel smelled something. Slightly festered undead flesh. Spike must have noticed it too. They both bolted into the trees to either side of Buffy.

Buffy, for her part looked unflustered as a pack of vampires emerged from a crypt. There must have been at least a dozen. Angel didn't have the time to count for as soon as they appeared Buffy set on them with blinding speed. Within seconds the first handful of them had become dust.

He had to stop himself from joining in. The odds were stacked heavily against Buffy, though she didn't seem to notice, throwing herself into the fray with what he would describe as reckless abandon.

Buffy leapt with a roundhouse kick to the head of the large vampire that emerged last from the crypt. His head snapped back and he fell with force to the ground. With stakes in both hands she launched into a backflip, staking two as they rushed her from either side. The one that hoped to surprise her upon her landing was surprised instead with a headbutt to his nose. As he staggered back, the slayer used him as a pommel horse to rebound back into the air to catch her next attacker in the neck with her boot. The woman crashed upon the large vampire who was still struggling to regain his footing.

A punch aimed at Buffy's head was caught by the slayer. She snapped his arm like a twig. The vampire screamed in pain before it was relieved by the stake to his heart.

Buffy was tackled from behind while she finished off the next vampire. The two tumbled in the grass. The attacking vampire suddenly went limp in front of Angel's eyes. His head napped up, mouth agape. He was thrown through the air and landed with a thud several yards away. Motionless, the still blood was dripping from the long double gash across his neck.

The Slayer hissed in rage. The remaining seven vampires all took a step back at the sight in front of them. The Slayer was a vampire, blood dripping from her teeth, smeared on her chin. She attacked them.

The vampire in 80's clothes brought his arms up to block the incoming blow. The stake punctured the bones in his forearm and struck deep into his chest. He gasped but it had missed his heart. He was still in trouble though, with his arm pinned to his chest and a furious Vampire Slayer still clutching the wood. He flailed with his legs to get her off of him. 80's vamp showed visable relief as his six remaining friends all jumped Buffy at once. His relief turned to horror as she swung her other stake in an arc, slitting the throats of three of the attackers. They fell to their knees grasping their collars as the blood poured out. Their comrades lept over their supine bodies and swung at Buffy. She let go of the 80's vamp and let him fall to the earth. A neck was quickly snapped and the vampire turned to dust in Buffy's hands. The other two unscathed vampires each found an elbow in their faces. As the shorter of the two staggered back, she received a hard kick to the chest and went tumbling into a tree, crumbling to dust over a low branch. Her friend lived only two seconds more before her head was severed by the Slayer's bare hands.

80's vamp struggled to reach some sort of one armed defensive posture. Instead he settled for shrinking away as Buffy approached him. He could do nothing as the Slayer grabbed the stake still lodged in his chest and tore it through his body, splitting his ribcage wide open. He dissolved around her hand.

The wounded remnants of the gang had their heads torn from their bodies, their suffering ended in an equally brutal manner.

_Holy Shit!_ Angel thought. What he just witnessed wasn't possible. A gang of vampires demolished by one Slayer in only seconds.

Buffy's vampire features slowly receded. She wiped the cold blood from her mouth with the back of her hand and continued on her way.

Angel continued to stand there shocked. Power like that couldn't help but be corrupted. He had to get back. But first he looked over to where Spike had been standing. He was gone.

* * *

"Giles!" Angel practically yelled into the phone. "We could be in trouble." The idiocy of what he just said was pointed out to him by the Englishman on the other end. They were already in trouble before. "She's stronger. I think she's gained vampire strength, speed, and senses on top of her Slayer powers." Giles said "my God," from his end. Angel couldn't help but agree. "Yes, I'm sure. I just saw her obliterate a whole gang of vampires by herself in no time flat. At least ten, looked like more. I think she'll realize how powerful she is and use it for the wrong ends. I'm saying that because she didn't look like herself when she did it." Giles was a little confused. "No, she looked like Buffy, but she didn't act like her, she was cold and detached, then she vamped out and went animalistic on them. You don't understand, Giles. She tore their heads off with her bare hands. Yes, I agree that's out of the ordinary." Giles was upset. "Yes, I know you don't want to see her like this, but we need you here. Please. When?" Angel heard the doorknob start to turn. "Giles, she's back. I've got to go." He slammed down the receiver. 

"Buffy, how'd it go?"

"Fine."

Angel couldn't help but notice that she had cleaned herself up a bit. Xander, Willow, and Dawn were still up too. He didn't think they realized that just a few short minutes ago there was blood running down her chin.

* * *

He stood silently on top of the department store, watching her every move. It was the next night, and while the day had gone roughly, with irritatingly few developments, this evening had been boring. Buffy had left for patrol without argument; Willow, Xander, and Dawn had just watched her go. Angel took that as a bad sign. Pessimism was healthy when optimism might get you killed. 

It was quiet. Too quiet. Buffy was slinking through the dark alleys in Sunnydale's decrepit downtown core. It was usually a region of gathering for the vampire gangs as they moved to and fro from their nocturnal hunting grounds: the blackened parks and city streets teeming with the destitute and lost. So far, however, the gangs were gone, not even stragglers and outcasts. Even the hobos and drunks were giving them a wide bearth. Angel cynically wondered whether this was a supernatural safety mechanism for all living and undead things to avoid the Slayer in her current condition. He knew that she was at her grumpiest now (and he'd seen her during that time of the month).

He hadn't even caught a glimpse of Spike yet. That was odd and it made him worry. What was the little bastard scheming? It wasn't simple caring like he so adamently insisted, or else he would be here with her at night. Knowing Spike, he had been using Buffy all this time, waiting for just this opportunity to bring together all his plans for worldwide mayhem and destruction and-

Wait, there he is now.

* * *

"Where is eveyone?" she mumbled to herself, skulking among the garbage in the streets. She had encountered many rats, one stray dog, a couple of alley cats and an overweight raccoon, but not one entity with an IQ over 30. Buffy so desperately needed to kill something big, grasp it's neck between her hands and squeeze with a twist to hear the crack of bone snapping, the meaty squish of neck muscles tearing apart and the blood pouring out of fresh wounds. But it wouldn't be fun with a cute little mammal. 

Good God, she had to get these thoughts out of her head. The unprovoked violence was there, circling in her brain like, bad analogy coming up, sex in Xander's imagination. It was getting harder and harder to keep it reigned in. She felt like she was ready to snap on the only people who she would probably regret killing in the morning. Her senses had been going off for a while. There was definitely vampire action in the area, just not wanting to be found, the bastards. She was about ready to pop. If she didn't kill something soon she would...

Oh, there's one. No that's Spike. "Shit," Buffy mumbled under her breath. She did not want to deal with him now. And for sure he'd want to talk or fuck or something. But he didn't move. All he did was point in a direction, or toward the old buildings in that general area. Despite herself she started heading toward them.

It was an abandoned metal works, not a very big one. The windows were boarded over, the masonry was crumbling. Buffy warily took in the scenery. She could feel something up ahead, but the alley was a dead-end and empty. However the sidewalk was well worn, the gravel spread away from the door. It was not as abandoned as she first thought. So Spike was leading her to prey. How nice of him.

When she broke the doorlock and went inside she was disappointed. Only two scraggly little vampires, neither looked particularly well fed - thin and in tattered clothes. She realized that even the undead had class struggles and discrimination. It was sad. Might as well put them out of their misery.

"Who are you?" one of them asked, startled.

The other was a bit more rational. "Doesn't matter though," he added. "You'll be dead soon." He sauntered over to her, a confidence in his step that belied his beliguered appearance.

"Already am," Buffy replied. The two other vampires stopped in their tracks. Buffy decided to play a little game. She walked up to them and started caressing their arms to show them that she too was room temperature. She put on her best Sultry Sue impression and practically moaned out the words to them. "Where does a girl gotta go for some fine cuisine?"

"Oh, ah, well," the littler vampire stuttered. He didn't seem that useful.

"Some of the bigger gangs have been causing trouble to heard the homeless toward central park. It's sort of a buffet smorgasborge that they're doing to ease tensions and whatever between some of the rival gangs." This other guy really liked to talk the talk. "They figured it was a good time with the Slayer virtually out of the picture."

"They?" she asked.

"We weren't invited," said the little guy. He was getting more and more pathetic by the minute.

Buffy went around to hang off the other from behind. "I'm new to town. What's the deal with the Slayer?"

He swallowed. Buffy could feel his adam's apple through his skin. "She usually kills vampires when they shake the boat and organize larger feasts, but we've noticed she's not been around so much. It used to be that a bunch of us would disappear every night but now it's less every other night and much more erratic. Someone told me she died, but she still seems here to me, just not so much."

"Thank you," Buffy said seductively. Then she grabbed them both by the neck and smashed their skulls together. She ripped their throats open and drank their still, cold blood before they dissolved and blew away in the wind. It took the edge off.

Now it was time for the hunting to start in earnest.

* * *

Angel watched her exit the warehouse. She was bloodied but looked uninjured. It was typical of the way she killed now, he thought with grief. She was enjoying the violence, much like he had before the curse, or like Faith had before she begged him for death. Angel really wanted to see what Buffy had left behind, if anything, but she wasn't giving him the luxury of time. Already she was running away at full speed toward the downtown core. He took off at a gallop to chase her down, but to no avail. She was getting away. _Damn, should have brought my car_. Not that he would have ever thought he would need it to follow someone on foot. At the limit of his eyesight he saw her leap with ease over a high security fence and land, her running stride unbroken, on the other side. A minute later he reached the same fence and leapt, but not high enough. His boot caught in the barbed-wire coil along the top and he tumbled to the asphalt, only his vampire acrobatic skills keeping him upright on landing. Around the corner he had seen her disappear he now saw nothing. He sniffed for her scent, but now, no longer released with intensity by her body heat, it was difficult to pick out. Tilting his head to the air he walked slowly in the direction he hoped she had gone...

* * *

Central park. It was a nice night. Crickets chirped. The nocturnal birds gave the occasional hoot. The air was filled with the smells of cheap whiskey, cigarettes, and, to the nose of a vampire, the stench of human sweat. It was a nice night indeed. The lowly urchins of Sunnydale had conglomerated here, the park safe in recent weeks, to sleep or drink or fuck away the night. Not the choice meat of society; the group was comprised of the homeless, the destitute, alcoholics and whores. Not that it mattered, as long as none of them had anything too harsh in their systems. Sometimes quanity was better than quality. And it was unlikely that any of these people have had any dental surgery in the past 72 hours. 

To Deynhardt it was like one of those all you can eat buffets that had started popping up before he became a vampire. Occasionally you just wanted to eat yourself lethargic, undo your belt and waddle off home. Tonight was a night for vampire gluttony, a deadly sin not so much when you were already dead, and did lots of sinning anyway.

He reached into his pocket for a couple of smokes. Took one and gave it to Joe. Joe brought his lighter to the butt but it wouldn't spark.

"Fuck, man, I need my smoke before food." Deynhardt hit Joe over the head. Joe growled, momentarily shifting into game-face before receding back to his human facade.

"Wait," a gleam of mischief in his yellow eyes. "I have a fun way to start this off."

Deynhardt followed Joe as he approached a wino in the park. He was dressed in barely more than rags as he stuffed crumpled newspapers underneath the well-worn blanket that was draped over the park bench. In his mouth the man happily smoked away at a pipe.

"Hey, man, you got a light?" Joe asked the hobo.

The man jumped, startled by their silent approach before his bleary eyes slowly focussed on the two vampires. "Eh? Oh, yeah." He scratched his filthy head. "I think I might be able to help you with that." He turned back to his makeshift bedding and produced a little Bic lighter. The two vampires light their cigarettes, basking in the warm, orange glow.

"Thanks," said Joe, a few seconds after taking a toke. "Now do you have anything for us to eat?"

"Ha!" the old man coughed before returning his attention to his pipe and bench. "I don't have any food for _me_. No way I have food for you."

"I think you do," replied Joe, wicked smile suddenly transforming into fangs.

The old hobo stared in shock, before stumbling backward over his bench. Deynhardt now smelled another powerful scent: the smell of fear. He too changed into game-face, salivating over the meal.

Suddenly Joe burst into a cloud of dust before his eyes.

"Slayer!" he yelled, and tried to run back to where his gang was toying with some hookers and their pimp. The slayer instantly grabbed him by his hair as he fled, his feet flying out underneath him. Deynhardt landed with a thud on the ground. There were no warm hands holding him down, just cold, dead ones pressing against his shoulders. In his dazed and pained state he heard a hiss, and locked eyes with his assailant's. The young girl wore cold, yellow eyes.

* * *

She was a tornado of destruction, fighting with a vigor and excitement she had never felt in all her life. Three vampires lunged at her in a coordinated attack. With one quick swing of her arm the knife she wielded sliced through each of their necks. The dust cloud felt like a gentle sand-storm on the beach while you played away from the surf. Sand was never this much fun. 

Buffy slung her stake into her belt. That would be too easy, she thought, and too simple a death for these vermin. She gouged the intestines out of one vampire to her right. It wouldn't kill him, but it would certainly cause him pain. Putting people to death by draining their blood certainly deserved being put in agony and suffering, not to mention a big squidgy mess over your shoes. Speaking of shoes, as that unfortunate vampire ran (trying to gather up his internal organs as he fled), Buffy planted her boot firmly into the torso of another. It crashed violently into a tree and slumped to it's knees. Before it had the chance to regain its footing, the Slayer's other boot slammed into its neck, crushing it against the trunk. She ground her foot into it's spine until she heard the telltale snap of bones coming apart. The vampire disintigrated around her.

That had been twenty on the night for her so far. Five had run away as soon as they realized that their friends were being ripped apart limb from limb. Buffy wondered why more of them weren't smarter and ran on sight. No matter though, she thought with a sigh of contentment. She could still sense them with her gut and smell their fear with her newly upgraded vampire nose. They would be hers in mere moments. Why had she thought vampirism so bad at first? There were so many neato advantages, which she was coming to enjoy immensely.

She tracked down two running back to Restfield Cemetary. They were startled and cried out when she landed from the air, dropping down in front of them from the tower by the gates.

"Naughty boys," she teased, as the two scared vampires backed away from her deliberately slow advance. "You made me run. What's the matter?" Buffy played with them, as she pointed a taloned finger into each of their chests. "Don't you like me?"

_Those two were so sweet_, she thought. She left them on top of a mausoleum with their limbs broken and unable to move. They begged her to kill them. She would comply. Sunrise was in four hours.

She tracked the last one who had eluded her to an alley back where she started. She was starting to feel a little disappointed, actually. There had been enough screaming and yelling to send all the vampires and demons in the area into hiding, or generally away from downtown. The endorphin rush was great, but coming down from the rush is a major drag.

There he was, with a young woman, probably a prostitute if the clothing was any indication, struggling in his grasp. The vampire was grinding into her and the prosititute squirmed in his clutches as he teased her neck with his fangs.

"Hey there, big boy," she said coyly. "How about a threeso-" A galvanized steel pipe smashed into her face. Dammit, she was too busy thinking about the rest of the night she didn't realize that this one might have other friends.

"Alright," she said as she lifted herself up from the ground, "that was just kinky." Her face changed to match theirs. "I hope you like pain." He swung the pipe at her head again. She easily caught it with one hand and tore it away from his grip with a flick of her wrist. Then she drove it through his skull. With a jerk she twisted with all her fury and ripped his head from his body, the torso slumping to the ground as it fell into dust.

The other vampire abandoned his prey in the corner and charged at Buffy. She caught him under the chin before he could take a swing at her. She tore his head off.

The prosititute was staring at her attacker as he disintegrated before her, the fearsome looking tiny blonde approaching her slowly in the haze.

"What? What just happened? Am I dreaming?" the waifish girl asked. She reached out with her poorly manicured hands and wrapped them around Buffy's waist. "Thank you!" she breathed with her voice husky from the tension.

Buffy could smell the prostitute's sweat all around her. It was heavy with body-spray and marijuana smoke. It was sex mixed with munchies and tantilizingly appetizing.

"The pleasure was mine," Buffy smiled, ear to ear, her fangs still protruding from her mouth. She leaned in, as if to kiss the girl, who's head was also dropping toward Buffy. Instead Buffy sank her teeth into her neck. She craved the release and relished the salty metal taste of the warm blood.

The prostitute gave a small shriek when the fangs penetrated her skin. Soon it died to a whimper. Then stopped altogether.

Spike found her a few hours later. She was sitting human faced in the alley with blood dribbling down her chin. He first saw her sitting against the brick wall, arms wrapped around her knees, unmoving, a distant gaze focusing in on something far away. Dust and weapons were scattered on the pavement underneath her. A dead girl was lying prone beside Buffy.

"You've finally learned, haven't you, Luv," Spike said as he sat down beside Buffy. "What it's like to live in my world, the one that bumps in the night, that breathes the fear of those ignorant fools who choose not to understand." Buffy didn't say anything to him, didn't move. She just sat there staring blankly at the opposite wall. He looked at her closely. No attempt had been made to remove the blood from her lips and face. The trail of crimson was dry but uncracked and gleaming bright in the light from the yellow streetlamp.

"You enjoyed it as I have. The killing, the fear in their eyes, the agony. It's what we are, Buffy. Our purpose. Our _raison d'etre_. Now it's yours too."

"It's not."

He was surpised when she answered him. When he looked over at her he wasn't sure she had. She was still sitting there, exactly as she had before, eyes as distant as ever. But the blood on her chin had crumbled and fallen away.

"You're right," Spike said, with astonishment in his voice. It just hit him. "You are unique. Special. You can do anything you want to do."

"And, and... I'm going to do good with this. Yes I am," she said in return, voice rising along with her head.

"No."

"No?"

"You are demon. You, as I am, are evil. No matter how much we fight it we'll never be anything other than that."

She moved toward him. "I can't accept that."

"Why do you think you could never love me? Even when you knew that I loved you. Why do you think your friends leave you like this? Even when they know you want their help and such. Look at yourself, Buffy. You've feasted and enjoyed it."

She hit him. Honest to goodness, she just hit him. One instant she was still and aloof and the next Spike found himself on his ass and ten feet away.

"Bastard!" she spat. "I hate you! I hate you!" She grabbed him by his collar and slammed him against the brick wall. "Because of you I drank that girl dry and I liked it. I like human blood."

In spite of himself Spike found himself smiling. "That's because you're a vampire. You're evil. You like being evil. You need to be evil. Inside, deep inside, you know that. You need to be like me, like I was. Be evil with me, Buffy. For me. We could be wicked, you and I."

"What are you trying to do to me?" she yelled at him. Tears were welling up in her eyes as she hit him. She hit him again and again, each blow harder than the one that fell before. He felt his ribs break each time she yelled at him. Then it stopped. He knew that five more seconds and he would have died. But she stopped. She just stopped.

"Go," she said. She released his neck and dropped him to the ground. Spike's legs couldn't support him and he crumpled. As he tried to regain his strength Buffy turned and walked away.

"Buffy?" he called out after her, but she didn't reply.

The sun was making it's appearance when Spike finally crawled to a manhole cover and disappeared into the sewers.

* * *

It was late when Buffy returned home. Willow was asleep on the couch with Xander where they had unsuccessfully waited for Buffy's return. She let them sleep and went to the kitchen. There was a message on the answering machine. She pushed the button. 

"_Buffy, it's Lorraine from the DoubleMeat Palace. I'm sorry, but we can't tolerate this kind of behaviour and poor attendance anymore. You're fired_." The machine beeped to signal the end of the message.

Well, that's it then. She can't go back.


	4. Death Isn't The Handicap It Used To Be

"Guys! This is great!" Buffy happily yipped to her friends in the morning. "I am a veritable juggernaut."

"That's great, Buff," said Xander, somewhat sleepily. "How's that again?"

"Okay, like, last night when I patrolling there was this vamp buffet in the park. Major family reunion or something. Mustuv been fifty of 'em." Buffy looked at the incredulous faces of Xander, Willow, Anya, and Dawn. "Really. Well, a couple dozen for sure. Anyway, that's not the point. The point is," Dawn looked happy that she was getting to a point, "that I kicked their collective ass!"

"Yay you," said Willow, though Buffy could tell she was being somewhat non-commital about it. _You think that after all this that she'd be happy for me_, Buffy thought, _after all I've been through with the dying and the coming back and the dying and the coming back and then becoming superwoman_.

"Yes, yay me. I think that I've got vampire powers overtop of my Slayer powers. Like, for instance, I can hear that your pulse is beating 82 beats per minute, Will, which is kinda fast. Xander, you had vegitarian lasagna for dinner yesterday and Dawn, stop wearing my perfume."

They all looked impressed but scared. Except Anya.

"What about me?" Anya asked annoyed. "I want to be scared that you know what I've been doing too. You're always leaving me in the dark and such."

"Anya, honey, quiet."

"I've got the balance of a cat," Buffy continued completely ignoring her, "I can leap tall buildings in a single bound. Not quite faster than a speeding bullet or more powerful than a locomotive but way able to kick the ass of any baddy in town." She stuck her thumbs up in the air. "No cause for alarm, everything is under control." She sat down smuggly and drank her blood.

"What about that message last night?" asked Dawn.

"What message?" Shit. Buffy choked a bit on her blood, like she just realized that she didn't like drinking cold blood out of a plastic bag in the morning.

"From your boss. She phoned before everyone else got here. She said you were fired. I didn't pick up."

"Oh that. Yeah, but that really doesn't matter much. Not like I could get there on time anyway with the whole not being able to leave the house in the daytime. No big."

"You need a job, Buffy," insisted Willow. "Remember?"

"Why? It's not like my food bill is going up. And I can pocket the loot I find in demon lairs for money. Things are still of the good, not to mention the smell. Ugh." Just remembering the harsh odours of the Doublemeat made her cringe. Especially now with the increased sense of smell. And she was sure there was garlic in there.

"Not for you. Dawn. You know, the whole foster home thing? And I guarantee you it won't be a barrel of monkeys like on the Simpsons."

_Ruin my good mood. You're lucky I don't bite you right now. _"I've got to stop thinking this way..." Buffy muttered under her non-existant breath.

"What was that?"

"Nothing. I've got to go."

"Buffy wait!" Willow pleaded, but Buffy went to the basement anyway, locking the door behind her.

* * *

Buffy left for patrol as early as possible the next night. The sun had barely set, the sky was still crimson, and Buffy hadn't even talked to them. She just opened the door to the basement and left, walking right through the living room where they were all sitting, weapons in hand. 

"There you are," Dawn had said when Buffy had emerged. "We need to talk. This is a serious matter."

Dawn had scolded her older sister, had gotten right up into her ear as she walked by, but Buffy didn't listen. She just opened the door, walked through, and closed it in Dawn's face.

"What's her problem..." Dawn had muttered to herself.

"Give her a break, Dawn," said Xander at the time. "She's going through a rough time. It'll get better."

But would it really? Willow wasn't so sure. As much as she admired Buffy's ability to pick out the positives of this situation she had to face some responsibilties right now. She would not get a second chance if Dawn was taken away from her or she lost the house. And she was hurting their friendship by callously dismissing their concerns every time any of them tried to address them. This was bad.

If answering her unvoiced thoughts, Angel made an entrance from the upstairs at this time.

"It's worse," he said.

"How much worse?" asked Xander.

"I haven't had the time to quantify it yet. Just know that she's starting to think like a vampire now. As much as she's trying to maintain her humanity, she's losing that fight." Angel closed his eyes and dropped his head. This must be so hard for him, watching the girl he loves, who he started loving because she exemplified everything good and pure, becoming the part of himself he most hated.

"She's stronger, but it's more than that. She's vicious, animalistic. She's starting to enjoy the suffering she brings to her victims," his eyes clouded with tears, "as I did."

"We've got to stop her."

"Or not." Xander surprised Willow when he said this.

"I'm just saying. Could be a good thing. Maybe we should encourage her." Shrug.

"Hello, I'm not going to let you guys turn my sister into one of him," Dawn pointed to Angel. Poor kid. "Remember what he was like? I thought so." Dawn folder her arms in front of herself. Point taken.

* * *

"Hey there, Lover," drawled an intoxicated Buffy upon bursting into Spike's crypt. Spike was layed out along the floor, minimally dressed as normal, though this time lovin' wasn't what he was after. His body still nursed the bruises, cuts, and broken bones from his last antagonizing misadventure with the Slayer. Doesn't matter if your central nervous system is just decoration - it still bloody hurts. The way Buffy looked now, he didn't figure that it would be a good idea to provoke a repeat performance. She was itching for it. 

_Maybe if I just play dead she'll ignore me._

She stepped across him and sat down heavily on his groin.

_Guess not, then._

"Yoohoo, Spikey? Why is my Big Bad so unfrisky like?"

_Stupid bint, can't she see I'm in pain? Oh hold up a minute. She can._

"You're swayin' quite a bit, Slayer. I don't think downing a few snorts is in everyone's best interest these days. You don't know your own strength."

She laughed a full throated laugh. "Oh, but I do, Spikey." She ran a cold finger down his nose. _Bloody hell_. Something about that laugh was scary.

"I'm strong enough to do any... thing... I... want."

_Ah_.

"Have you been drinking whisky again?"

"No."

"Wine?"

"I do not drink... wine."

He'd heard _that one_ before.

"Vodka?"

She chuckled. "No, Silly. No booze." Spike saw her expression go thoughtful. "But I have been drinking. It's what I do now." She kissed him lightly on the tip of his nose. _Had she eaten a drunk?_

Spike swallowed. Something didn't fit. "I thought you smelled of the drink. If it's not that, what is that stench?"

"I'm not sure. I've killed a lot of things tonight."

_Oh God, Buffy's nibbling my ear._

Her actions were tender yet very, very painful to Spike. Physically he hadn't healed, and every single touch caused his battered body excruciating pain. Psychologically, and this was the part he'd dwell on as a former poet, it was killing him that she had never done this to him while she was alive. She had never been gentle, always liked it rough. She battered him, and squeezed him until he was ready to pop like she had said so many years ago. There was usually a lot of spanking and rough-housing. With Buffy and him it was as much fighting as making love. Now she was caressing his, _oh yes_, I mean-

"No!" Spike nearly yelped.

All he had wanted before was for her to be just a little more like him. Now that she was it was just sickening. Had he really wanted her like this? It was just so wrong, and this hurt.

Especially since she was doing her nibbling with fangs out.

"No? What's the matter, Lover?"

_I'm frickin' dust now. Better backtrack._

"It's just, well, I think you got some demon goop on you, Luv. Wouldn't you rather have a shower first?"

"I'm hot now. Besides, we'll need to shower after. And you don't have a shower."

Touche.

"Listen. It's getting late. I'm sure your mates are worried about you." Spike tried to lift Buffy off his crotch - he never thought he'd ever do that. "You should go back to them."

"Why? They just want to fret and lecture me. I like it here."

"They care about you. They only want to do what's best and want to make sure nothing hurts you."

"And what about you, Spike?"

"I agree with them."

Buffy stopped and stared deep into his eyes.

"Tough."

_Oh shit_, he thought as she grasped his wrists and hooked her legs around his thighs. _Oh shit, oh shit._

Oh yes.

* * *

She was awoken by the key turning the lock on the front door. She was groggy, but could make out that it was still dark outside. The birds were chirping, so the sun was going to be rising soon. _Damn that Buffy for keeping such ungodly hours_. _It's even worse than when she was alive and slaying every night, though this way we know she's going to be back by sunrise or not until the next night_. 

Willow heard Dawn stirring beside her. Of course the younger Summers was up first and standing in front of the door, waiting impatiently for it to open. Willow struggled off the couch.

"It's just like you to run off at night without telling us where you're going and keeping us worried and staying out until morning," Dawn lectured as soon as Buffy had walked in the door. "And you have some nerve yelling at me over _my_ behaviour."

"C'mon, Dawn. Take it easy," Willow scolded. She knew well enough that Dawn wouldn't listen anyway.

Buffy was instantly on the defensive. "I haven't yelled at you in weeks."

"That's what you would've been doing if you were actually home once in a while."

Willow had to restrain Dawn to make sure she wouldn't get herself killed. Horrible thought that Buffy would actually kill Dawn, but it crossed her mind, and she'd been right too many times before. Buffy would never do it normally, but Willow couldn't vouch for vamp-Buffy, whether her morality would prevent her from doing such a thing. She wasn't even sure if this Buffy wasn't evil. Even more reason not to provoke her.

"Dawn." Willow grabbed her wrist and pulled her back.

She turned to Buffy and tried to defuse the brewing argument/impending bloodbath.

"How was your night?" Willow tried to be as perky and chipper as possible. It seemed to work. Instantly Willow could tell that the sibling rivalry was wiped from Buffy's mind. Her eyes started to sparkle - yellow, which scared Willow a bit, and a devlish smile graced her perenially sad features.

"Awesome. It was increadible." Buffy the vampire was speaking animatedly with her hands while she walked past Willow and Dawn. "I was on fire, well not literally on fire, but unstoppable. I bagged three Suvolte demons, some sluggy thing, and eleven vampires. Ooh. And one of them was a shaman and I stole his magic bone."

"Nice, Buff," said Willow. As great as that sounded something worried her about it. Against her better judgement she confronted Buffy with it.

"You've been getting really powerful, I guess."

"Yeah, great! I've got superhero powers and supervillian powers all in one neat little package." Buffy paused and scowled at Dawn. "I heard that," she said. Willow hadn't noticed Dawn say anything, but assumed it was something relating to Buffy's lack of height. That super-hearing was creeping her out. Not as creepy as mind-reading but close.

"And, uh, what do you think about it."

"I love it." Buffy leaned over to Willow, making her uncomfortable by invading her personal space. It never bothered Willow before, but she was scary and different now. Buffy might disagree but vampires were just not as cuddly as people - and Willow knew that much better than the average person. In a confiding whisper Buffy continued. "I can do anything I want. Nothing out there can take me in a fight. Anything crosses my path, I kill it, quick and easy." She leaned back. "Sweet."

"Sounds like you're enjoying yourself," muttered Dawn. It was a rhetorical question, but Buffy didn't see it that way.

"Muchly. I kick ass and there's nothing anyone can do about it."

That pretty much confirmed Willow's fears. "Um, Buffy. Don't you think you might be enjoying it a bit too much?"

"Whady'a mean?"

"Power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely. You've got pretty close to that."

"Oh Will, you can't be serious." Buffy rolled her eyes at Willow, but she could see that despite her relaxed appearance Buffy was tense. She could see that her fangs had been out moments ago.

Dawn took this one step further. "What else did you kill tonight?" _One step which was a bit too far_, thought Willow. _Get ready to run, Dawnie._

"I don't need to take flak from you, little miss klepto."

"Anyone I know?"

"Dawn!" _Is she trying to get herself killed?_

"You think that just because I'm a vampire I go around killing your friends for fun?"

"No offense," retorted Dawn, arms folded across her chest. "But that would be in line with other vampires we know."

"And to think I died for you."

"Did you kill anyone or not."

"Street gang. They were scum and I was hungry. Now that you know what are you going to do about it?"

"How could you? You're supposed to be good and now you're just a murderer."

"And you're a petty thief who we all should have let die."

"Buffy?" Dawn whimpered.

"Dawn," Buffy said with dead calm.

Dawn started crying and ran to her room. A few seconds later she left for school, backpack in hand.

"That was mean." Willow said after a moment of silence.

"She deserved it."

"It's hard to tell if you're supposed to be our friend anymore. We all want to help you, but we kept being pushed away."

"Help?" Buffy asked exasperated. "You call this help? You're constantly yelling at me, telling me that I'm going evil. Ever thought that I might start believing it? Or maybe it's just the way it's supposed to be. I still do a lot of good. Do the math and all the people I save more than makes up for the few scumbags who cross me and pay for it in blood."

"You didn't used to be like this, Buffy. Weren't you the one who said that it doesn't work like that?"

"I was young and stupid then. I've risen to a higher reality. I see what I'm capable of. If you can't accept that then don't watch." Buffy left Willow behind and harrumphed to the basement.

Willow followed. "I see what you're capable of too. _That's_ why I'm tyring to stop you."

She nearly bumped into the back of Buffy when the vampire stopped in front of her. Buffy's hands grabbed her wrists and pulled her forward. Willow tried to backtrack but Buffy had her pulled into her hair and up against her hips.

"You wouldn't be if you came around to my way of thinking," said Buffy seductively.

"NO! Buffy!"

Buffy tilted her head way back, resting on Willow's shuddering shoulder. She smiled at her and purred. "You like the sun. I wouldn't do that to you. I only want you to see things my way."

Oh God. This was _not_ Buffy! This was like her evil doppelganger all over again.

With hands.

"Please, no. Don't do this, Buffy," pleaded Willow. Her pleas fell on deaf ears. Buffy ignored her protestations and ground into Willow's thighs.

"All this time," Buffy whispered into Willow's ear as she pulled her head down toward her own, "we've hunted, and killed, and never tried to understand. You haven't considered how intimate the act of feeding can be, how enjoyable, sensual. It's like the whole world falls away. And all there is... is you."

"I...I...no."

"You'll like it." Buffy licked Willow's neck and ran her teeth over her skin. Willow could feel her nerve endings tingle. A flood of warmth rushed through her body. She could feel Buffy's lips under her jaw. It was like nothing she'd ever felt before. The wetness was cold and almost frightening. It only heightened the pain when Buffy's teeth punctured her veins. Willow suddenly felt so relaxed. At peace. She closed her eyes.

* * *

"Hello! Is anybody here?" Willow heard Dawn's voice echo through the house. The yell shook her completely from the groggy state in which she had been lying for the past few hours. Her head was still spinning from what had happened this afternoon; she was lightheaded and her muscles were weak. All she wanted to do was sleep forever, but discretion prevailed. Dawn was thumping around upstairs. The basement would be the next place she'd look. Willow realized with a start that she was indeed rumpled and not quite fully dressed and sitting up in the bed that Buffy had been using downstairs. Her neck with two - no, _four_ - puncture wounds plainly visible to see. The basement door was thrown open. Willow desperately grasped for one of Buffy's sweaters which had been piled nearby, a byproduct of the Slayer's move from upstairs to down. She pulled it over her head in what she hoped was the nick of time, for when her eyes peeked over the collar Dawn had stumbled her way around the bannister and was looking straight at her. She looked slightly confused from what Willow could see. 

"Willow, there you are. Where's Buffy?"

"I, uh, I don't know," Willow stammered. "I kinda fell asleep." That was true at least. "She's not here?"

Dawn crinkled up her babyish face. "No. Glad to see you're on the ball with the whole Buffy-watch thing." Dawn critically appraised Willow's situation. "What were you doing down here, anyway? You've got the whole rest of the house to sleep in."

Willow took a good look at herself too. The black shirt she was now wearing, luckily a turtleneck, was obviously too small for her. Baby tees are a fashion statement. Baby turtlenecks not so much, unless you're Shania Twain. She was still half under the blankets, which smelled like sweat and blood. Both were Willow's. She hoped Dawn couldn't smell that from where she was stading. Willow took the time to clear the frumpy hair from her eyes. Dawn could never know what really happened. She needed to go on the offensive.

"You really hurt Buffy this morning. She didn't handle your act very well. I had to spend most of this morning trying to calm her down and keeping her from going psycho. And, uh, and you're lucky to have a sister who cares as much as she does, even if she is a vampire now. I'm guessing she took off to give me some time to talk some sense into you before you, she came back."

Willow hopped out of the bed, trying to get away from any potential Dawn prying. She nearly fell trying to stand, but kept upright with the help of a support post. As long as Dawn didn't ask why she was in Buffy's bed, which smelled sweaty, was just waking up, and was wearing one of Buffy's turtlenecks, all would be good. Or at least not as bad as it could be.

She had tried to get Buffy to be more like a regular, caring human being again. Instead she had succumbed to Buffy's animalistic wants. The worst part was that she could still feel the pressure on her thighs and Buffy's powerful grip around her chest. Even the thought sent a surge of endorphins through her body. The words Buffy had whispered in her ear during the moments between the ravishing of her neck still echoed through Willow's mind. _When I devour you, I know you deeper than anyone else can_.

"Get some of your things, Dawn." Willow rushed up the stairs as quick as she could muster. "We're going to Xander's."

"What? Why? What about Buffy?"

"I don't think us right now would be a helpful thing for her." Willow put on a deliberately high necked jacket. She went to her room and grabbed some of her own clothes.

"Bullshit," swore Dawn. "She probably needs us more now than before. And how else am I supposed to apologize for pissing her off this morning?" Dawn asked, more sarcastic than sincere. "So why are we going?"

"For food," Willow muttered to herself. "I'm worried that we've been doing more harm than good so far. And really, I don't think you could apologize without getting into another fight. I don't like your chances of winning that fight either."

That shut Dawn up.

"Now let's go."

Willow slammed the door as they left into the cold night.

* * *

Buffy banged on the heavy oak door. Her arms hugged her own torso tight for protection from the chill wind. The worst part about animalistic rage is that you don't think to bring a coat.

Angel threw the door open quickly after peeking out through the curtains, still drawn tight from the sunlight. Buffy was there quite early, having left her house as soon as she could. The wind drew the heat from her cold-blooded body quickly, a painful transition from the warmth of Willow's embrace. She nearly cried.

"Angel, I need help. Could you teach me to meditate? The way you do to control the cravings?"

He tried to hug her, but Buffy turned her back to him. She hadn't brushed her teeth after leaving. She was sure that he would be able to tell that the bloody film in her mouth was human.

"It's okay, everything's going to be okay, Buffy." Angel did indeed hug her - from behind.

"I don't think so."

"What's wrong?"

"I can't control myself," Buffy whispered. "I've killed people. I've hurt my friends. And I like it. I'm scared I'll never stop being this bitch monster. Or turn into a bigger one, if such a thing is possible."

"I'm going to decline comment on that."

"This is serious. Okay? Major crisis here!"

"Oh Buffy, it's only natural to have a crisis of faith through something like this. Even I had my own dark times when I got my soul back."

"How are you sure that I have my soul?"

"I have to be."

Buffy was awestruck. "You really love me that much? To not doubt me at all even though I've screwed up a bunch already?"

"Always and forever."

"I have a confession to make."

"What is it?"

"This morning I drank from Willow." _Shit! Fucking conscience._ She could feel Angel tense. "I didn't kill her!" she yelled, guessing what he was thinking. Maybe it wasn't, though. He let go of her and started to walk away. "Please, listen to me, Angel. That's why I want your help. I don't want to hurt her again. I need to be able to put off my hunger when I'm around my friends."

"So you can feed on others you don't care about?"

"Yes! No. No! That's not what I mean."

"Get out."

"What? Angel!"

"Out."

As Buffy left she knew that he was going to be brooding for a while. _What the fuck was his problem?

* * *

"Oh my God. Are you serious?" Xander asked Willow. He and Anya were huddled around the witch, who was still hiding behind Buffy's borrowed turtleneck. "Are you alright?"_

"I'll live," she said. Willow knew that wasn't really a proper answer to that question. Of couse the real answer was 'no'. She really wasn't used to losing this much blood without getting a cookie.

"What was it like?" asked Anya, enthusiastically. "Was it as kinky as in the movies?"

"Honey," Xander snapped. "Quiet time."

"Sorry. Just curious. Geez," Anya mumbled to herself.

Willow heard the toilet flush down the hall, and the tap started to run. Dawn would be back from the bathroom shortly.

"Remember guys, not a word of this to Dawn. It would kill her to find out that her sister is doing the human feeding thing."

"And the lesbian thing."

"Anya!" both Xander and Willow whisper-yelled simultaneously.

"Sorry. But you must admit it would freak her out."

"And no freaking out about this either. Especially on Buffy, in person. I don't know the psycho-killer mindset, but I'm guessing a world of bad."

"Knowing the forementioned mindset could be a big help," said Xander, peering toward his bathroom. The tap was shut off.

"I was thinking the same thing."

* * *

She stood in the drab concrete room, surrounded by assorted lowlife scum or friends of said lowlife scum. Willow walked to the window when the guard brought her in.

"Red? What are you doing here?"

Faith looked different from what Willow pictured in her mind. Younger and miserable. With haunted eyes. Not at all like the vicious, murdering skank who had tormented them all years ago. It's hard to hate someone who looked so sad.

"Faith. Um. Hi." They tried to avoid looking at each other. _Okay Willow. Calm. She's the one who's not going anywhere._

"Never expected to get a visit from you. Thought you would be happy to forget me in here."

"Yeah, so did I. We actually need some help."

"Really? Help from little ol' me?" There was the 'tude she knew and loved.

"Shut up and listen. Something happened to Buffy." The color faded from Faith's face.

"What? What happened?"

"She was nearly killed by a demon. Fatally wounded, actually." Willow could see Faith's lower lip start to quiver. She'd never seen Faith so emotional before, or at all, for that matter. I guess her walls came down when the walls went up around her.

"Is she?" Faith averted her eyes, the phone barely held to her ear.

"Yes and no."

"I don't understand."

"You may or may not remember Spike, the neutered vampire who sort of hangs with us?" Faith slowly nodded in the yes. "To prevent her from dying again, he turned her."

Faith's voice was very quiet and slow. "Do you need me? To stop her?"

"Maybe, but not right now. She's different. I think she's still in there. We're all still alive, so that's saying something. But it's getting worse. Everything we try to do to help just alienates her more. I'm worried we're going to lose her."

"I wanna help. What do you need from me? It's not like I can do much from here."

"I know this is digging up things better left buried, but you've done this before. I mean the 'going bad' thing. Can you explain it to me?"

"No big. It's not all bad memories for me. It was fun at the time. You can really get off on the violence, like a drug." Frightening, this dreamy-eyed reverie of a murderer. Willow hoped that she would never be able to tell any story from that point of view. "I know you all tried to help me out. You _less_ than everyone else, as I seem to recall. I really couldn't stand the Buffy lectures. Wicked drag, y'know? Everyone was always all worried and stuff. No one ever treated me like _me_ after that. They were always acting like everything was all five by five but it really wasn't. I was used to giving out the fake, not receiving it. Talk about a burn. So I ended up with Wilkins. He accepted me and," Faith took a deep breath. Willow could only imagine how hard this was for her. She almost wanted to reach out and comfort her, but the last time anyone had tried that it didn't work out so well.

"Loved you?"

"Yeah. That's it. For who I was. He encouraged me and rewarded me and was always on my side no matter what I did. I needed that. So I went there."

"Oh God, that sounds horrible."

"Wasn't so bad. I got a Playstation out of the deal."

For some reason Willow just had to laugh. "You are such a guy."

"What? Me? No way."

"Oh yeah. Video games, can't say the word 'love'. But I'll stop right there because you'll hurt me."

"Good choice." Faith was laughing too, but it was hollow. She was still worried. "About where is Buffy now?"

"She ignores us during the day, and kills things at night. Angel says she's killed some people. She's starting to turn on us. Yesterday she," Willow tried to retract what she had begun to say, but Faith had already caught on.

"The jacket, Red?"

"Yeah." Willow tugged down the collar to reveal some of the bruising around the wounds in her neck.

"I don't know why she did it. It's like we don't matter anymore. Except...when Buffy bit me," Willow said softly, "it was beyond passion. She wanted to devour me, all of me. No... on some basic level it was about me. _My_ blood, _my_ body." She sighed.

Faith stretched to peek through the glare in the glass. "I'm almost jealous." Willow was shocked. "I'm so sorry, Willow. You go back to Sunnydale and make things right with her. Help her kick that demon inside her in the ass. For all of us. Please."

"Why do you care so much? You tried to kill her before."

"Because if she can't beat the evil inside her, what chance do I have?"


	5. Hitting the Fan

There was nobody home when Buffy returned. She should have been angry or sad or something along those lines. Instead the demon just smiled with Buffy's lips. Now she could do her own thing.

She turned to leave. Before she got ten steps, another's were stomping along beside her.

"Spike," she said cordially.

"Buffy."

"Were you following me or just waiting for me?"

Spike just smiled. A bit of a nervous smile at that.

"In all of your undead life have you ever not been following around some girl or another?"

"I'll have you know that I've spent many... I...uh. No. I guess not." He walked while staring at the sidewalk. "Bit pathetic, I know."

"I should have expected this," Buffy stated bluntly.

"You what?"

"No, not your patheticness. We've all known that for a long time," she patted him comfortingly on the shoulder. "No one home. I can't say I blame them. We don't get along anymore."

"It can never go back to the way it was, Buffy. I'm sorry to say it. Well, no, I'm not. But you'll never be able to fit in there. A lot like me, actually. No matter how many times I save your necks someone is always hankering to stake me in the back."

"I don't want to go back."

"Come again?"

"I'm walking with darkness now, not just the pun," Buffy said chipperly, "All they've ever done is dragged me down. They don't deserve me, and I deserve better. I've realized that I'm more dead inside now than I was even before, which I thought was rock bottom. I'm sick of it. It's time for me to be all the Buffy I can be. And I have you to thank." She stopped and held his trembling hands.

"You were right. You've always been able to see me right, all these years, when no one else ever did."

"Thank you," said Spike. "It means a lot to finally have someone admit it, instead of just telling me to shut up."

"And now, I'm going to follow your advice."

"Wait up. Be careful. It doesn't come naturally, Luv. I know I fucked up some decisions in my early unlife. Everyone is different. Even vampires. What works for some isn't necessarily the way it works for others. They all have different growing pains and personal trips."

"So what you're saying is that my journey is my own."

"Yeah, that's the sum of it. Hey wait. Where are you going?"

Buffy walked away from him quickly and disappeared into the darkness before he even had a chance to react.

Spike sighed and stood in the alley alone. "Bollocks. I fucked that speech up."

* * *

Anya was cheerily humming that catchy song by that latin fellow with the loose hips as she opened up the Magic Box that morning. It brought back so many good memories of her simpler youth, when mayhem was the order of the day and the possibilities were endless. Her mortal mind strayed from the throughts of money and sex to that day when young Ricky Martin's girlfriend had wished him cursed. She had made him rich, famous, and irresistable to the women, while dooming him to... well, you get the idea. And of course it didn't hurt that his singing caused pain to every straight man on the planet. Those were the good old days. 

Though that song was driving her nuts...

Maybe some money would take her mind off the-

"Ah!" she screamed when she nearly bumped into Buffy.

"What are you doing here? We're not open for another twenty minutes."

"It's so nice to see that you're holding up well enough to go to work with all the badness going on these days. I'm so pround of you," Buffy purred. "Who's a big girl?"

"I am. Now what are you doing here? And how did you get in - oh wait, you broke down the back door."

"I need the books that Giles keeps in the back. The really secret ones." Buffy was smiling deviously, a wicked gleam in her eyes. Anya noted that but really didn't care. She was more worried about her door.

"You broke it, you bought it. I'll send you the bill."

Buffy ignored her. "I've already read all the books we use for day-to-day baddies. It seemed like it was for the first time."

"It was the first time. You never help when we're researching."

"The books, Anya."

"Fine. What are you looking for anyway?" Anya asked Buffy as she unlocked the back room and opened the safe.

"A little something to take the edge off," said Buffy. "I suppose you could say I've been a naughty girl. I'm looking for a little bondage."

"Here we are," announced Anya when she emerged with the books. "And don't ever say that around my Xander, or I'll have to kill you."

Buffy smiled sweetly at her as she took the books. "What's the matter? Afraid he won't think of you anymore when you're having sex?" The knot turned in her stomach. _Damn these womanly feelings of jealously. What happened to the nice, healthy rage?_

_Bitch_. She missed unhappy, responsible Buffy. This version was more likely to actually steal her Xander (and sure to scare the customers).

Anya couldn't help but steal glances at Buffy as the morning wore on. There she was, small and blonde at the corner table, surrounded by dozens of old, musty books. Her concentration was commendable, but the mess was distracting and didn't present a professional image for the store. Not to mention the blood in a mug she was drinking.

A young man went browsing through the back of the shop. Like any man Anya knew he made his way over to Buffy and feigned interest in what she was reading by peering over her shoulder. She nearly took his head off. It was entertaining but not good for business. She was so sure that he would have bought something.

"Buffy, I'm going to have to shut you in the back room," Anya said.

"I'd rather not," replied Buffy, not looking up from her reading. This was remarkable. Buffy was practically illiterate, a model of the modern American high school graduate. It would make her proud of her adopted country except that it was preventing her from accumulating the wealth she so deserved.

"You have no choice. You're scaring the customers."

Buffy looked up at her blankly.

"Having men run screaming from the store like little girls isn't good advertising."

"Would you have prefered that I killed him?"

"If you dumped the body and let me take his wallet and shoes, yes. But we're not talking about that. We're talking about you making a new home in the back room"

"Fine."

* * *

Buffy read alone in the back for several hours. It was amazing. Most vampires were quite stupid, one dimensional creatures. Everything was all here, written down by stuffy British men in old volumes. She wouldn't be like the rest of them. She was greater than that already. And now she knew what she had to do to get it all. It was all written right there in front of her. All she had to do was take it. 

Occasionally Anya would wander into the back and asked if she needed a top up on her blood or if she was any closer to leaving. She was annoying and oblivious, but she was also greedy. She liked that.

One time Anya didn't leave right away.

"Can I help you?" Buffy asked.

"I know what you did," said Anya.

Buffy wasn't exactly sure which thing Anya was talking about. They were all becoming a blur to her, honestly.

"With Willow and the," Anya slid her right index finger back and forth between the hole in left hand's 'okay' sign and shuddered with a little "eww."

"That's not even physically possible."

"I'm just saying that I sortof understand. I also know what I'd be doing in your shoes, other than the hurting feet because of the whole shoe size thing. Y'know, the vampiric sucking destruction spree," Anya said, somehow just as perky as usual. "But I'm a vengeful person." Anya gave her a thumbs up and headed back into the store.

Buffy decided that she would leave Anya alive. It's nice to have people you understand.

* * *

"Xander? Dawn?" Willow yelled when she threw open the door to Xander's apartment. "Xander? Anya?" 

Xander and Dawn came running from the kitchen. The bad times always call for copious snackage.

"Willow? What happened?" they asked.

"We're all stupid," she said bluntly.

"Hey! I object!" Xander yelled. Then more quietly he added, "Not on my part. Just on behalf of rest of us."

"No, what I mean is that we've been going about this all wrong. We've been harping on Buffy all this time but all we're doing is getting her mad at us. We have to make sure she knows that she has our unconditional support."

"How so?"

Willow recounted the part of her visit with Faith where she revealed that she turned to those who loved her without being judgemental.

"It's like smoking," added Dawn, who understood quickly. "When someone's trying to quit you don't keep telling them the bad things about smoking they already know. You're supposed to be all supportive and wussy."

"Right."

"We'd better find her right away," said Xander.

"Let's go," said Willow. She grabbed a dagger from the closet and handed a stake to Dawn. "Just in case wussy doesn't work."

* * *

_Twenty minutes at least before sunset_, Buffy thought to herself. She was standing by the back door to the magic shop with her eyes shielded from the deep red setting sun. A few scribbled papers were crumpled in the breast pocket of her jacket, right next to her longsword and stake. Buffy unfolded one and read it again for what seemed like the hundredth time. It was her future. 

"Hey, Buffy. Be careful out here," said Anya, once again visiting from inside the store. "Usually all for sunshine and getting a nice tan, but in your case, not so good for your complexion."

"Thanks for the warning, but I already got it." Buffy stashed the paper into her pants pocket, one of a very small number of things that could be hidden there without leaving a seam.

"You know, I was thinking," said Anya, as Buffy thought that it would be far too easy to interject, "You should stick to tanning booths now. I've never seen a vampire with good skin, but you could use this whole new UV bed fad to be the first to beat the trend."

"I can't believe it, but that's a great idea."

"Yeah. I rock. Oops, gotta go make a sale."

Anya went back inside. "Hi there. Would you like to spend some money?" She said as she disappeared into the store.

Buffy retrieved the wrinkled note from her pants. She smoothed it out on the wall. It was getting hard to read, though she'd read it enough to know every word each cited work she'd lifted them from. They were just simple instructions. All they did was tell her how to get everything.

"Cheapskates, lousy uncapitalistic socialists." Anya blundered her way back. "Don't you just hate that?"

"Yes, red commie bastards."

"That's it exactly."

The sun was getting really low now. It wouldn't be long. Then she could end this frustrating waiting and get the ball rolling.

"Anya, do you ever think about anything else other than money?"

"Sex. But you should know that by now. Why?"

"Just wondering. Did you ever think that there was ever anything more to life? Anything greater than bling and boink?"

"Nope. It's my purpose. Now excuse me while I go see if these people are any more American."

"Time to fulfill my purpose..." Buffy whispered to herself.

"Good for you!" Anya called. "Now can I interest you in some fine slug scented candles?"

_Hmm... Wasn't even talking to me_, thought Buffy.

"Now will that be cash, credit, Interac, blood oath?"

The sky faded to purple. Buffy pulled her coat around her and disappeared into the night.

"Now that couple was much more free market, Buffy. Buffy?" Anya crossed her arms in mild disgust. "She didn't even buy anything."

* * *

Willow interesected the others at the bottom of the stairs. "She's not here." A quick look at the others confirmed that Buffy wasn't on the ground floor or in the basement. 

"I'm thinking that subletting might be an idea," quipped Xander. "If the renters don't mind the occasional decapitation."

"Any ideas where she could be?"

"I'd be willing to bet Spike's," said Dawn. "That's where I'd go if I felt all dark and broody. Either that or the Magic Box, if I was feeling profound. And broody."

"What if she's not feeling broody?" Willow and Dawn didn't dignify Xander with a response. "You're right," he retreated. "All serious vampires are broody. Speaking of that, maybe Angel's mansion."

"Probably a bit too virtuous for her state of mind. I'm going to agree with Dawn. Let's go to Spike's. If I were straight and evil I'd go there." Willow waited for consensus.

"I want to hit the Magic Box first, talk to Anya," Xander proposed, "And, as you said, one of the more likely Buffy 'at's."

As they drove off Willow prayed to whichever god would listen that they weren't too late.

* * *

Buffy was out, not patrolling, but hunting demons. Between her hands right now was a boil covered demon, struggling valiantly to release itself from her grasp. The struggle was in vain as Buffy's powerful fingers dug into the flesh of it's shoulders, slowly dragging it to the ground. The demon wheezed for breath but only managed to produce a gurgling noise from it's throat - internal injuries from the blows Buffy had inflicted on it, though from it's grotesque appearance Buffy wasn't entirely sure that the sound wasn't natural to it's breathing. 

"Vampire," the demon hissed. "There is no blood in me."

"I don't want blood," Buffy whispered sweetly into it's ear hole.

The demon flailed in her arms, boils bursting against her fingernails and the roughness of her leather coat. The puss flowed from the wounds. The mighty demon was disgraced to whimpering.

"You are mad," it said. "What do you want?"

"You have knowledge and power. Which I need and I'm going to get."

"Do you expect me to talk?"

Buffy laughed. She felt a cliché coming on.

"No, Mister Bond. I expect you to die!"

Buffy sank her teeth into the demon's neck. He tongue was assaulted with foul flavours of inhuman blood, but her mind and body were assaulted with the full power that the boil demon had possessed. She chanted the short incantation she had written on one of the papers "_Alicunde caedes pradae evalescere_." The demon's eyes glazed over and it fell limp from her arms. Buffy stood and wiped the sludge away from her lips.

"You're going to take some stiff whisky to kill." Buffy spat on the floor. "But it was worth it. You were smarter than you looked," Buffy said to the demon corpse. "Not smart enough though, and neither was your friend." The ground near the chamber's entrance supported the body of an eastern man, whose brain sat exposed beyond his skull. He too had been killed, his power literally sucked out of him. Buffy now had that power.

* * *

Xander was sneaking in, trying to be as stealthy as he could. He kept his head low, his eyes and ears open for motion in the corners of the room. He stuck to the shadows, he was a ninja. He- 

"Xander, what are you doing?"

Anya was standing right above him, confused but wearing the same general expression on her face as normal. So that meant confused in a cheerful sort of way. Xander, on the other hand, was crouched by the doorway, trying to keep hidden behind a stringy statuette of what was apparently a rather anorexic diety.

"We're looking for Buffy," Willow explained as she and Dawn came through the Magic Box door moments later. Xander was turning an unflattering beet red. He continued in his attempt to hide. Once again the disappearing act proved fruitless.

"007 here thought it would be a good idea if he got a lay of the land, see if there were any psychotic killers ready to pounce on us," Dawn patted Xander's back fat, obviously enjoying his shame and pathetic commando skills, "but I think there's only one psychotic here."

"So," interupted a more serious Willow, "Is Buffy here?"

"No. Just me. It's a slow day."

"Dammit," Willow muttered. She pulled Dawn and Xander into a loose huddle, Dawn having to turn Xander so he was facing them. He was still the reddest item in the group, surpassing Willow's hair.

"Okay, we're going to go to Spike's. Any other ideas to where she could be?"

"None, except Angel's mansion."

"If she's completely lost it, the Bronze. It's what all the other vampires like to do whenever they come here," said Dawn.

"Maybe she left some clues in the books she was reading when she was in here earlier today."

Willow, Xander, and Dawn turned to look at the smiling yet bashful Anya, who was standing nonchalantly over their huddle, hands clasped behind her back.

"Good idea?" she said. "No?"

Xander hung his head and pointed his fingers to the sky in front of his face. He always did that with events he couldn't believe. "Why didn't you say she was here before?"

"You didn't ask."

"Yes we did. That's what we asked when we came in here."

"No. You asked 'is Buffy here?' She's not. She was."

"How long ago was that?" asked Willow.

"She left about two hours ago. She actually opened the store, in the sense that she was here at starting time this morning," Anya looked pleased. "See what I did there? I volunteered information without being asked."

"What books were she looking at?"

"The secret kind. Some of them were the ones that Giles used to keep locked up. She left them all in the back on the research table. You want to go look?" but Willow and Dawn had already started running there before Anya finished the sentence.

"Oh no," Willow gasped. "Oh no, no, no no no."

"What is it, Will?" asked Xander, who really had a hard time understanding the scope of the books in front of him without reading in depth.

"Some of these are just standard vampire books, but these here are magic tutorials and these," she pointed to a few small volumes, charred at the edges and showing significant signs of damage, "are summoning and dark magic books used by some of the big bads the we've faced over the years."

"That's bad," said Xander, not really knowing what else to say.

"And this," Willow picked up the last, but one of the thicker books, heavy with iron bindings and lock, though the lock was now broken, "is the Watcher's Council arsenal book, which outlines the specifications and ramifications of known apocalyptic magic. Known colloquially as the Doom Tome."

"Hey, that sort of rhymes," quipped Anya.

Ignoring Anya's comment, Dawn had a question. "Willow, how do you know what's in there?"

It was Willow's turn for a colour change. "I, uh. I already sort of, uh... read it."

She was met with steely eyed, increadulous stares.

"Hey, don't look so surprised. Magic user," she pointed to herself. "Magic," she pointed to the book. "Kind of curious, in a catlike, possibly suicidal sort of way." Still accusatory stares in her direction. "Hey, me. Not going to destroy the world. Buffy. More important right now."

"Right," said Xander, a little slower than normal. "We should get to Spike's and see about finding Buffy before she has a chance to end the world."

"She's going to need some high-end magic for this, which she doesn't have..."

"Does that mean we're safe?"

"...But she can get by forceably taking it from others. Oh my God, this is going to be bloody."

"I know some places where some warlocks and demon shamans hang out," offered Anya.

"Good," said Willow. "You go search there. I'll take Dawn to Spike's then I'll head to some of the places I know. Come on. Let's hurry." She and Dawn headed to the street with Xander dragging Anya by the arm.

"Xander!" Anya complained. It was still another few hours until closing time. "What about the store?"

* * *

"All mighty Avilas..." Buffy said, "please accept our sacrifice. Please appear before us, oh mighty soldier of the dark. Please appear before us, and grant us with infinite riches, and we will pay you with our sacriface. We kneel before you with the gift of flesh." 

Dust swirled before her and coalesced into the form of the giant demon, horns protruding from the thick scales on his head.

The demon stared in shock when he appeared to simply one little girl.

"What?" his deep voice echoed through the cavern.

"I lied." Buffy instantly plunged a short sword through the demon's chest.

Avilas screamed but could not move to attack Buffy. She had pinned him against the wall.

"This is going to be slow and painful." Buffy drove a dagger into each of his arms. She whispered into his ear, "You should appreciate it."

She plunged a spear through his thigh and reached for another weapon.

* * *

Dawn shrugged off yet another question. 

"Dawn, you have to take this more seriously!" said Willow as they walked, briskly, through the cemetary. "We don't need another Xander here. Or especially another Anya." _Shudder_. "This is big, and you've got to treat it big."

"Why? She's always acted this way. At least now she has an excuse."

"Dawn. I'm running out of things to say about this. Now I know how Buffy felt having to put up with you."

"Careful. You're starting to sound like me. Or Anya."

"I'm sorry, Dawn," said Willow. They were nearing Spike's crypt. "Loads on my mind right now. Kinda stressing. I just worry."

"Don't. If the need arises, I will be ready to fight and muck about. Even if that means Buffy-"

"Willow, Dawn, what brings you to my neighbourhood?"

Dawn jumped. She just wasn't expecting Spike to surprise them.

"Spike!" she yelled. "Don't do that to me. Just because you can't have a heart attack doesn't mean that you can't give one to us."

"What were you two talking about there? I heard something about Buffy and mucking about. Can I come?"

Willow scowled at him. Dawn really couldn't tell if it was intentional or not, but she did know that Spike was observant enough to notice. Spike scowled back at her.

"We're trying to get her back on our side," Willow stated bluntly.

"What's with the mucking about then?"

"She might not be in the mood," said Dawn.

"Oh, I hope she is," replied Spike. _Eww_.

"We don't have time for this, Spike. Do you know where she is?"

"No, but if you see her, send her my way. I think I can help her."

"You? How?"

"She's a creature of the night now. Hence, me. Light banished to dark. She really can't be anywhere else. It's not her world anymore. She belongs in the shadows, with me. I understand what's she's feeling. The lot of you, not so much."

"Good God, Spike!" Dawn yelled. "What's wrong with you?"

"Sorry, Niblet. I love her. And dammit, I am being possessive. I hope you understand." With that Spike turned and disappeared into his crypt.

"He didn't used to be a bastard," Dawn remarked after he left.

"Don't take it too hard, Dawn. Love can make you stupid sometimes."

* * *

Buffy was feeling better, stronger, and bolder as she stepped through the boundary of warm air, seemingly out of place in the cold night. Emerging in a dingy waiting room, smelling of cigarettes and human filth, her greatest fear was having to spend too much time in this pit of refuse for her own sense of personal well-being. She couldn't pick up any diseases but it was just icky.

There were a handful of people scattered throughout, young witches and wizards, each looking as though they were withdrawing from drugs. Magic was addictive. She knew this too well. She'd seen firsthand what it could do to the weak and needy. Poor fools. It was just as well that their suffering would end soon. After a breif suffrage increase, of course.

Buffy barged her way in through the door on the other side of the room amid protests from the strung out youths lounging on the run-down furniture.

"Hey man!" one obviously stoned guy yelled. "I was next! Dammit, not again..."

There was a girl floating in mid air, seemingly floating on streamers twirling around the room. Buffy grabbed her by the ankle as she drifted by, throwing the young witch into the wall. She really didn't complain as much as one would expect, what with the laying there all quiet and still. That was a goodly sized dent in the wall though.

An older man was sitting, half sprawled on the sofa at the opposite side of the room. His hair was long and dishevled. He was wearing a plain brown collared shirt with a heavy looking pendant around his neck. This was the warlock she sought. The veiny face and fireworks dancing from his fingertips were a dead giveaway.

"That was unexpected," the warlock said. "Not to mention uncalled for. And rude. Girl, if you seek enlightenment it would behoove you to be a little more courtious."

"I'm sorry if I offended you, Miss Manners."

"No matter," he said, rising to his feet. "And the name is Rack, if that name you called me wasn't just a feeble attempt at a burn. I can already tell that you are a very determined young woman. A woman who has goals and dreams. Big dreams." He was walking around her, circling her, staring at her. "I can help you with that."

"Goody." Buffy winked at him. It seemed to rattle his calm a bit. But he continued.

"That is, if you can help me." The warlock slowly edged toward her. His outstretched hand rising to her breast, over her heart. "Let's see how you taste."

"Let's not, and say we did." Buffy kicked him in the chest, sending him flying into the opposing wall.

"You are insolent and foolish, girl. It is time for you to learn your place." The warlock stood and commanded a ray of black light to shoot from his palms.

"_Haltem_," Buffy said, casually. The energy deflected harmlessly away from Buffy.

Rack was surprised. "I didn't see that coming. You know what they say. If at first you don't succeed..."

Buffy calmly waved her hand, once again nullifying his attack.

"Damn, that is one effective counter spell." He looked tentatively around himself. "In that case, I must bid you farewell." Rack began waving a circle around his body in an attempt to create a dimensional door. Instead he found his hand pinned to the wall with a stake.

"Leaving so soon? But we were just getting started..."

In a final last ditch attempt at escape, Rack whispered for fire. Soon a lick of flame spread from his free hand. He tried to touch the Slayer.

"Ah, ah," Buffy cooed at her captive. Just as the fire was to erupt into a blaze, Rack's hand was forceably wrenched to his own flesh. The searing must have been painful. Buffy enjoyed watching him scream. Once his wailing faded to a whimper, Buffy brought her fangs to his neck, suckling for a long moment. She pulled back her head and licked her lips for the dying warlock to see.

"Mmmmm... Tastes like - roast pork." She sank her teeth into his neck again...

* * *

"Here Xander, I think I've found it!" yelled Anya. _Score one for me, yay!_

"Where?" Xander rushed toward her, confused.

They were in an alley. Really in an alley. There wasn't much around at all.

"I don't see anything."

"Of course not," she said. "Rack keeps it cloaked so that people don't bother him. Only the those in tune with the mystical forces can find it. Come on." She tried to lead him in by the sleeve but he stood his ground.

"What's the matter, honey buns?" she asked him.

"In tune. You mean like witches and vampires and demons and things?" Xander asked, well, more like stated.

"Yeah. You coming or what?"

"Anya, dear. How come you can find it, being all human now?"

"Oh that." Anya pondered for a while. Magic shop owner? Probably not, since she didn't actually use any of the wares. Xander always said she was a spiritual experience, but that probably wasn't it either. "I guess it's the ex-demon thing. Maybe I still got it."

"Sort of like riding a bike, you mean?"

"How so?"

"You know," he said, fidgeting with his hands again. "Once you learn how to ride a bike, it doesn't matter how long since the last time, you never fall off."

"Oh. Not so much of a bicycle person myself. Though this one time this woman wished me to-"

"Anya, back to work, hon."

"Right." _But it was really funny. Honest. Even to non evil-minded people._

They walked through the boundary and emerged Rack's rec-room. It was just like Anya remembered. Which was scary since that was a long time ago and the decor hadn't changed. Looked straight out of That 70's Show. Except Ashton Kutcher was cuter when he was stoned.

"What is this place?" Xander asked.

"Rack's a warlock. He offers a great magic high for sharing your power with him. I used to come here back in the day with Halley." Anya looked around at the patrons who, besides looking like death on acid, were also up in arms about something. "I'm not sure why we used to come here."

"I'm not so sure why we're here now," said Xander, also looking around. "If I were superpowerful I'd spend my time in a bit nicer place than here. What makes you think Buffy would visit a place like this?"

It wasn't often that Anya got to be the intelligent, informed one, so she was going to milk this for what it's worth. "A couple of weeks ago Willow got all bummed out from coming here. Buffy got all bitchy about it and would for sure remember this place. Being best friends they'd for sure talk about it at which point Buffy would undoubtedly figure out that Rack has a lot of experience and specializes in magic transferral. Judging by the books she was reading I'm sure that she was going out of her way to increase her power so odds are that she'd come here." She folded her arms smugly in front of her, which had the added bonus of making her breasts look larger. "If I were a betting woman, and I am, I'd put my life savings on it."

"That's good," said Xander. "Now we have to see if she's here."

A young man came crashing through the door in front of them. The door didn't open - he went through it.

"I'll take that as a yes."

The young magic users in the lobby screamed and rushed out, vanishing through the wall that Anya and Xander had just come in through.

Buffy smashed down the door, with nary a "Here's Johnny!" If she noticed Xander and Anya she didn't show it, focussing her attention on the man fallen in front of her.

A girl who was huddled over the wounded boy stood up, yelling "You Bitch!" at the top of her lungs. She wound up to unleash a spell on the Slayer.

"Oh, I wouldn't do that if I were you," Buffy cautioned, only mockingly.

Buffy projected her punch between the distance that seperated the two of them. Without even touching her, Buffy sent the girl flying through the fake wall behind.

"Buffy, please," pleaded Xander. For what seemed like the first time, Buffy looked up at them. Anya didn't like the look in her eyes, the reflected nothing. She was scared.

"It took us a while," he began, "but we're beginning to understand what you're going through. And we'd like you to know that, whatever you choose to do, you'll have our support."

_There goes my Xander_, Anya thought to herself. He was slowly approaching the terrifying Slayer-come-vampire-come-witch. All noble and brave and insanely stupid. Xander was circling by the door now.

"We still care for you. It doesn't matter if you're high school cheerleader Buffy, or scary vampire witch Buffy. I know it sounds corny, but _Holy Shit!_"

Xander stared in through the broken door into the room behind. Anya came running to see.

She had been wondering where Rack was. Now she knew. He, or rather, what was left of him, had been quartered and strewn about the room. She recognized the haircut. Judging from the lack of blood escaping from the former join lines, the warlock had been sucked dry, after being singed. He wasn't the only one. There was a girl, dead in a heap in the corner, as well as two other bodies on the floor.

"That brings back memories," Anya mused.

"You monster!" Xander yelled.

"No, Xander!" Anya reached for him to hold him back, but it was too late.

Xander had retrieved the short sword from under his jacket and swung it down toward Buffy's head. Before the blade had a chance to land, Buffy punched him in the chest with lightning quickness. He tumbled to the floor.

"Xander! Xander!" Anya rushed to his side and cradled his head. It was bleeding badly from where he hit it against the wall. There was blood coming from his ears and mouth. The skin around his torso was quickly becoming turgid with internal bleeding.

"He's dying!" Anya pleaded with the disinterested Buffy. "Look what you've done. Help me."

Buffy rushed over and held Anya softly around the shoulders. She gave her a hug. Anya felt Buffy's cold cheek against her head, but all she could think about was Xander, his breathing slowing, his heartbeat fading.

"I'm sorry, Anya," Buffy cried. "I really am. I don't know what came over me. It's just, he came after me and I can't control myself anymore. I want to help you. I would help you, but he's dead." Buffy let go of her suddenly and got up. Buffy smiled a mischeivous smile. "Get over it."

"No..."

"Yes," Buffy said. "You see, Anya, I've learned something today. You've got to grab life by the horns if you want to reach your full potential. I've figured out what I can do with my potential. That's ruling the world. And I've literally grabbed things by the horns today. I'm going to go fulfill myself now. So you can either stay here, moping for poor, dead Xander there, or you can get on with your life."

Anya was crying. She couldn't even see anymore. She felt her Xander go limp in her arms. "You're not alive," she whispered coldly to Buffy.

"Death isn't the handicap it used to be in the olden-days. Now what are you going to make of yourself?"


	6. Walking on Sunshine

"Why do I have to hide out?" asked Dawn as she and Willow drove down the road late at night. "Don't you think I can help here?"

Willow kept her eyes on the road. Was there a diplomatic way of saying that you're a liability? "I just want to keep you safe, Dawn. Things could get worse before they get better." They drove in silence for a while. The streets were empty. It felt like the outside world was dead and there was only them and a homicidal Buffy. Willow silently hoped that Buffy wasn't the reason for the silence.

"What's that?" Dawn pointed ahead to a shape in the middle of the street.

It looked like a person. Willow slowed down and stopped in front of her. "Anya?" Willow opened her door and rushed to Anya, who was aimlessly wandering the street.

"Anya, what happened?" Willow got no response from the ex-vengeance demon. Instead she just tried walking away some more, despite Willow and Dawn holding her shoulders. "What's wrong?" Willow tried again.

Dawn stopped Anya's wandering by holding her in place. "Did you find Buffy?" Dawn said softly.

"He's dead," Anya replied with equal softness.

Willow realized what happened. "Xander?"

"She killed him."

"Oh my God," Dawn whispered.

"How?"

"She killed them all. They were just scared," Anya explained. "He tried to stop her. She didn' know. She didn't know her own strength."

"I think now might be a good time to call off the magic ban."

Willow couldn't help but agree.

"You can't stop her," said Anya. "If she wants you dead you're dead. Even if she doesn't want you dead, you're dead. She has so much power now."

"I hope you're wrong," said Willow. If even she couldn't stop Buffy with magic how could they stop her at all? Buffy was never one to listen to reason. She was just far too headstrong to talk down - unless you were proposing crazy fun, but that's what she was doing already. "Where? Where did this happen?" she asked Anya.

"Rack's."

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. "Just up the alley?"

"Yes." Willow ran as quickly as she could. She had no idea what she was going to do if Buffy was still there. If Buffy could defeat Rack, Willow didn't have a chance. Maybe she was just rushing to follow Xander in death. She was surprised to see Dawn following.

There was a body in the alley. A young woman whose head was shattered on an unfortunately placed dumpster. The entrance was a few feet in from that.

Xander was lying there. His neck was at an unnatural angle, there was blood under his head. The room was scattered with the dead, some of whom she recognized from her two visits to the warlock's lair. Inside, Rack was dead too. His body had been quartered and burned. It was gruesome, even for someone who had seen death in far too many ways already.

"I can't beleive Buffy did this," Dawn whispered from behind her.

"That settles it. Dawn you're going to Angel's mansion. I don't know if he can protect you but I don't want you ending up like this."

"I don't want me ending up like this either."

Willow ignored Dawn's comment. She planted a kiss on Xander's forehead before she dragged Dawn back into the rest of the city. "Let's get going before something bad happens. Anya, start up the car!" Willow yelled. They briskly walked toward where they left the car but there was no sound. "Anya!" she yelled again.

The car was still there but there was no Anya. "Great. She wandered off."

"We can't wait for her," said Willow. "Get in. We're going now."

* * *

She was wandering aimlessly through the streets now, a dangerous venture in this town. She did not care. Anya's world had crumbled around her again. This piss-poor mortal existance was only tolerable, sometimes enjoyable, thanks to Xander's innate humpability. Now he was dead and that would be disgusting. Really. Viagra couldn't cure that. 

Getting your life stomped on from above really sucked. It was so much more fun to do the stomping. She wished she could go back to the stomping. Blinded with tears she slumped against the brick wall of an alley, not pausing to worry about what possible icky remnants could be splattered there, or even the tasty vamp-snack she could make.

"Dear, oh dear," came an unimposingly high-pitched male voice. "Young women shouldn't be out alone at night. Especially around here, with all the looming danger and evil intentions. This is no place for a ray of sunshine like yourself."

"Go away, D'Hoffryn," Anya said, covering her eyes so he couldn't see the tears. Not that it helped. Maybe it was just so she wouldn't have to see the world with her teary eyes. Either way she didn't look at him.

"Oh come now, Anyanka. You don't really mean that," said her former boss.

"Do too," she said, sturggling through the convulsions in her lungs.

"Typical woman," snorted D'Hoffryn, "says one thing while meaning the other."

"Cut the sexist crap," said Anya as she turned to huddle against the wall, resting in her own arms. She really didn't want to have to go through this rigmarole. Just get it over with.

"That's rich, coming from one of the most dedicated man-haters the world has ever seen."

"I've grown as a person."

"Yet you've made such a pathetic one."

Anya wiped her eyes with her sleeve and looked at her former boss again for the first time.

"I heard you," D'Hoffryn continued. "Over and over again in your mind. You wish vengeance. Your wonderful, wonderful hatred has returned."

"My fiancee was just murdered," Anya whispered at him, harshly.

"As good a reason as any."

"I need it back."

D'Hoffryn faked confusion. "What was that?" he said.

"I want the vengeance back."

D'Hoffryn patted her on the back. "That's my girl."

Anya was suddenly alone in the alley. There was no trace of the demon lord's visit except the power Anya could feel coursing through her veins.

"Buffy, you are going to die a slow, painful death."

* * *

Angel had already rushed out to meet them at the door to the mansion. He must have heard them pulling into the driveway. Dawn wondered how Buffy could have tolerated having a boyfriend you could never evade. It would be just too creepy. Dawn had always found Angel creepy and at the time she was just a little kid. _Lousy monks, can create a human being but can't give me a healthy social life and toys._

"Oh God," Angel said upon seeing their haggard expressions. "You found her."

"Not quite," replied Willow. "We didn't get there in time. It was awful."

"She killed Xander."

Angel joined them in looking distraught, though with him it resembled stunned. "How could she..." he trailed off.

"I don't know. Maybe we've lost her."

Angel clenched his fists and looked at them with steely resolve. Dawn recognized this expression as the classic _'I've made up my mind to do something I'd rather not do'_ look. She saw it too often from him, and Buffy, and Tara, and just about everyone else.

"We can't let her continue," Angel said. "I'm going to stop her."

"It's worse than you think," Dawn interceded. "She's got magic now."

"What?'

Dawn nodded and rubbed her forehead. Despite the chill in the air she was sweating. "She spent all day at the magic shop reading up on it. We think she's trying to increase her power by sucking the magic out of the local witch and warlock population."

"We already found a few," Willow added. "That's where we found Xander."

Angel's jaw dropped. "How powerful is she now?"

"I don't know. But she killed a warlock who's way more experienced than me. We're not going to be able to beat the sense into her."

"What can we do if we can't talk her down?"

Willow thought for a few seconds. She brightened a bit. "I may be able to hold her with a resolute-sphere spell. It'll freeze everything within itself in a slightly altered plane of existence for an indefinite period of time."

"That's good," said Dawn.

"But I'm going to need a few things from the Magic Box and some preparation time."

"How much?"

"Couple of hours, give or take. I only know of the spell. I have no idea if I can do it."

Dawn was skeptical. "Do you think we have a few hours?"

"Dawn's right," Angel said. "I should try to find her and see what I can do."

"But Angel," Willow grabbed ahold of Angel's wrists before he could get going. "I brought Dawn here so you could protect her."

Dawn caught Angel stealing a quick, disappointed glance at her before he began whispering to Willow. Willow tiptoed up to Angel's ear and replied. Dawn couldn't hear what they were saying, but she could see that Angel disagreed. But there was no way to break her resolve.

"Alright," Angel said, aloud again. "I'll take care of Dawn. I don't really know what I'll be able to do but I'll try."

Willow gave Angel a hug.

"Thanks. I'd better get going," she said to Dawn.

"Hurry back," Dawn replied. Then Willow was gone out the door. She heard the car start up and drive away, fast.

"Now what?"

She hated how everyone always treated her like a little kid who needed to be protected or scolded or both at the same time. Everything just plain sucked. She plunked herself down on one of the ornate chairs in the mansion, sending a plume of dust swirling into the air around her.

"We sit tight," Angel said, sitting down next to her without producing an allergenic cloud of his own. Dawn fanned the dust away from her, but had to stifle a cough.

Man, she always got allergies in this place. Her nose was already starting to run a little. "Sounds like fun," Dawn said sarcastically. "A veritable barrel of monkeys."

"I once saw an animal trainer in China get swarmed by a barrel full of monkeys. He didn't think it was very fun. Crap all over the place," Angel looked at her, mischief in his eyes. She couldn't tell if he was kidding or not. Maybe he was just reminising about his fun, evil days.

"Buffy would freak if she heard you talking about..." Dawn suddenly realised she had spoken wrong. It just hurt that there may never be a Buffy freaking on someone in mock seriousness ever again. She remembered how lonely it had been when Buffy died. Mom was dead, dad was gone. Robbed forever of a normal childhood, it was hard to cope without the one familial bond she had come to count on, as lame and unreliable as it was.

Angel must have recognized the pained look on her face because he scooped her up in his arms, coddling her. "Hey, it's okay," he said softly. "We'll be alright."

"Thanks," Dawn said, eyes just watering a little. "It's just hard sometimes, you know?"

"Yeah, I know."

They sat there like that for a while, Dawn snuggly in Angel's embrace. For just an instant she thought she could get used to it, but then again, her brain wasn't working quite right.

"Bored again," she said finally.

"What would you like to do now?"

"Can you teach me how to fight?"

Angel looked surprised all of a sudden. "You mean you live here, on the Hellmouth, with the Slayer and several heavily armed friends, and you don't know how to fight?"

"Well, Buffy usually wants to keep me sheltered from stuff. She says I'm too young, even though when she was my age she already died once. I'd like to avoid that with myself."

Angel smiled. "Usually avoidance of death is good." He walked to his chamber and returned with a short sword.

For the next hour Dawn practiced the techniques under Angel's experienced care. She wasn't terribly good, but not terrible either. She relished the feel of the blade in her hands and quickly realized that she had never felt more alive. The school psychiatrist was going to have a fit if he found out she was having fun with violence.

Suddenly Angel froze.

"Wait," he said as he put his hand up to stop Dawn's next swing.

Angel looked around apprehensively, as if he were expecting attack.

"What is it?" Dawn whispered.

"I think I hear something. Wait here."

This was scary when even the old vampire was worried. As Angel rushed up the stairs, Dawn sneaked her way to Angel's room, where he had gotten the sword. She needed to arm herself.

* * *

Willow was rushing back as quickly as she could, driving recklessly, speeding, cutting off old ladies and running stop signs - as the average American called it: driving. She had only been gone for about twenty minutes, twenty minutes longer than she would have liked. But she had all the magic ingredients and power objects she needed to safely encapsulate Buffy. Another three hours and this nightmare would be behind them, or at least nothing else could happen. 

They'd lost so much already... Xander, and Buffy's humanity. It hurt to think about, but she couldn't stop herself. It made her flustered and her driving suffered for it.

_Thwak!_

She just went through a mailbox.

Bless the wonderful Sunnydale police department for not putting an end to her carmaggedon.

She barely saw the bodies along the road.

_Oh no!_ Buffy had killed again. Willow almost kept on driving but suddenly someone stepped out into the road in front of her. She hit the brakes hard and skidded to a stop.

Great. Spike had nearly caused her to have an accident.

"Did you see this, mate?" Spike asked as he pulled open Willow's car door.

"Yes," she said, "we can't let Buffy keep doing this. I've got a spell ready that'll freeze her. If you'll just let me get going-" Willow tried to shut the door again but Spike held it fast.

"She didn't do this," he said.

"What?"

"Buffy wasn't responsible for all their deaths. There's not a mark on the lot. No blood. No bites. No bruises or broken bones." Spike paused, waiting for Willow to digest this.

She was unconvinced.

"Spike, you may not know this, but Buffy's gained a great deal of magic. And she's capable of terrible acts of evil now. She," Willow fought to keep back the sobs, "she killed Xander."

"_Blimey_," whispered a sincerely saddened Spike. "I'm sorry, luv. I never meant for any of this to happen."

"Well, it did. And now he's dead, and they're dead, and she just killed all these people... I have to stop her." All the rage in the world was building up inside her.

"She didn't."

"She didn't?" Willow calmed a bit. She felt the plastic of the steering wheel deformed beneath her fingers. It was slightly warm. How did that happen?

"I found a gal rocking herself on a bench a block over. She said she did it. It wasn't her doing though."

Impatient, Willow practically shouted, "Who was it then?"

"All that girl said was, 'I wish they all were dead.' That ring any bells with you?"

Willow was shocked. "You mean?"

"Vengeance demon. I don't think Anya has taken things particularly well."

Willow opened the passenger side door.

"Get in," she said.

"You what?"

"I said get in," Willow repeated. "Tell me everything you know as we drive. I'm in a hurry."

"Okay then." Spike got in and Willow sped off.

Spike held on tight to the arm rests with all his might.

* * *

The hair on Angel's neck stood up on end. Buffy was close. He couldn't tell where she was, but she was virtually on top of him. 

"Buffy?"

"Angel."

He spun around to face her.

"I screwed up bad, Angel," she said, without preamble.

"I heard."

She smiled weakly. "I thought you might. Listen," she played with her feet, shuffling her shoes timidly. "I don't want to endanger people anymore. Every day it gets worse. I need you to stop me." Buffy forcibly grabbed Angel's hands and clutched them to her chest. "Please."

"Alright," he said. _Thank God_. Maybe they could do this without a fight. "Willow's gone to get ingredients for a spell to keep you in check. She'll be back soon."

"How?"

"Binding spell, removes you from our plane of existence. I'm releived you're helping us. I'm proud of you, Buffy. You're doing the right thing."

"Thanks, Angel. I can always count on you." Buffy grabbed him in a big hug. _Damn, she was strong, stronger than before._

"Buffy? Hurting now," he said.

"Sorry. I guess it's just as well. Is Dawn here? I want to apologize to her before I get all bound and removed."

"Yeah. She's downstairs."

Buffy jumped up and planted a kiss on his mouth. Reflexively he responded, before thinking better of it. Though it didn't suck.

"I love you Angel," she said.

"I-"

Suddenly he felt a sharp pain in his kidneys.

"You're so gullible."

Buffy dropped him to his knees. Angel gasped, clutching his chest. He tried to stand but the pain was almost unbearable. Looking up he saw Buffy's fist soaring toward his head. It was the last thing he saw before he lost consciousness.

* * *

Dawn heard footsteps coming down the stairs from the roof.

"Angel?" she asked tentatively. But they were all wrong. As light on his feet as he was, there was no way Angel could sound like that coming down the stairs. Dawn realized too late that she had made a mistake.

"Dawn. It's me," said Buffy. Buffy seemed awfully calm. Dawn raised the sword in her hand. It was a lightly built short sword that she had retrieved from Angel's luggage. To Angel it would have been either a concealed weapon or a backup weapon. For Dawn it was about the largest she felt comfortable handling. It didn't look big enough.

"Stay back," Dawn warned. She waved the sword nervously in front of herself. She wasn't particularly menacing.

"Oh Dawnie, please put the sword down," Buffy pleaded. "You're my sister. I'd never hurt you." Despite her small size and familial bond, Dawn was utterly terrified of Buffy at this instant.

"Liar. Where's Angel?" Dawn asked as she backed away from her slowly approaching sister.

Buffy stopped to sit on the railing at the bottom of the stairs. "He decided to leave us alone for a bit. I think he's taking a nap."

"What did you do to him?"

"My poor ex? I've done him worse. But enough about him. Let's talk about us. You're a very special girl, we both know that. With so much untapped potential."

Dawn didn't like where Buffy was going with this conversation. She had backed up into a wall but knew there was a hallway nearby. Without hesitation she started running.

"Naughty Dawnie," Buffy said.

Dawn screamed as she nearly ran into her sister. Buffy had just appeared right in front of her.

"Always causing mischief. I'm going to do a better job taking care of you. No more neglect from Buffy, no-sir-ee." Buffy tore the sword from Dawn's hand.

"Now, back to business," Buffy smiled as she grabbed onto Dawn's shoulders to keep her from running again. Buffy's hands were so cold. Dawn could feel the heat conducting out of her body, even through her jacket.

Buffy leaned in to whisper candidly into Dawn's ear. "I've found a way to unlock your power, to finally put it to use. We could tear down the fabric of space and rebuild it however we want. Only thing is, I'll be wielding the power, but don't worry. I'd never dream of killing my little sis. So, what d'ya say, Dawnie?"

"My sister is dead," was Dawn's reply. She found Vamp-Buffy utterly revolting and, despite the promises, Dawn had trouble believing that she would somehow emerge from Buffy's world-redecorating unscathed.

"I was, but I'm feeling much better now. And you will too. In a few moments the world will be my oyster, and it will be all thanks to you."

"I won't be a part of this," Dawn said. She started crying softly. "I'm sorry, Buffy."

There was a click as the tightly-wound spring unloaded. Then Dawn was alone. Against the hard stone wall she slumped, tears streaming from her eyes. She wiped them away with her hand, scratching her nose on the stake protruding from the wrist-sheath that was concealed under her sleeve.

Slowly she sat down amidst the dust.

"Hey, are you okay?"

Dawn stirred out of her groggyness. She could barely see out of her encrusted eyes. Willow shook her shoulder again.

"Dawn?"

"Willow. I, I..."

"Shhhh... It's okay." Willow rubbed the sleep from Dawn's eyes with her sleeve. "We were worried about you. We've been trying to wake you up for a while now."

Dawn sniffed. "It's over," she said. "She wanted to use my power to take over the world. I had to kill her."

Willow didn't say anything, she just embraced Dawn as hard as she could. Dawn hugged her back. Spike was in the corner, he collapsed into a despondent heap.

"Willow, Dawn. What happened?" Angel said as he stumbled in from upstairs. He was nursing a head injury, probably a concussion, if vampires got concussions.

Dawn tried to speak but really couldn't figure how to say it right. Willow gave her hand a squeeze and spoke for her.

"I was too late," said a forlorn Willow. "Dawn saved us all."

Angel slumped to sit on the bottom step. He knew what it meant.

"Buffy's dead."

They both nodded.

"I'm going for a walk," said Spike.

Willow jumped up, shocked. "Spike, it's morning!"

But Spike didn't listen. He just walked outside into the sunlight.


	7. For Those Who Like Happy Endings

The guards dragged Faith through the halls to the prison visiting room. It had been one of those days, torturous, grueling, sad, depressing. Just like every other. There were loads of verbal abuse, a beating, and her constant struggle to maintain her sanity; to keep her fiery temper in check.

_Fuck this shit._

Now this visit presented an uncertainty, threw a kink into the day, so to speak, not that Faith would ever speak the word _uncertainty_ using her own mouth. Damned high school equivalency courses.

It was news. For sure it would be news. But bad or good? The butterflies in Faith's stomach were doing some bizarre mating ritual. Terrifying anxiety was bringing her almost to tears. What was with her? She was a tough, caution to the wind, ass-kicking bitch! And this simple little emotion was almost enough to make her want to curl up in a ball and die.

Weak kneed, the guards were supporting most of her weight when they brought her into the room.

Buffy wasn't there. Faith's heart sank. Willow was there, holding Dawn, with Angel, Giles was there too, and that Anya girl from school. They all looked sad.

"Oh my God," she said, "oh my God," she repeated while sinking into the chair.

Willow picked up the phone on the other side of the glass. Reluctantly, Faith did the same with hers.

"Hey," Willow's voice sounded tinny and distant. She had obviously been crying a lot.

Faith tried to speak, but she couldn't. Everything was so hard all of a sudden, even thinking of anything to say to try to console Willow, or any of the others who had gathered around.

"I'm sorry, Faith," Willow managed to say next. "We couldn't help her. She was just too far gone."

Faith swallowed hard. It was the only way to keep from bawling. "I figured as much. I know you did everything you could." Screw the no crying. She bawled her eyes out.

There was no cheering up through the cold, hard glass. No comfort afforded, just the pain of loss. Through teary eyes Faith could see equal expressions of mourning on the faces of her one-time friends. Except Rupert, who was coldly standing back, while the others crowded the window. Willow told her that Xander was dead also. Faith shed a tear for him as well. They had a connection.

Dawn took over the phone now.

"Hey squirt," Faith said, trying to muster as much courage as she could.

"Faith, I still can't forgive you," Dawn said, without actually looking at her. "I just know how much Buffy meant to you. How much you two meant to each other."

Faith could see Angel tear up for the first time. "Thanks. I really, _cough_, really appreciate it."

She sniffed, and shielded her eyes with her free hand. "I feel terrible about this. I just wish none of this had ever happened, that Buffy didn't get attacked by that demon, and we could all be okay again."

If Faith had been looking up she would have seen, though not heard, the girl she didn't know very well whisper, "Done." She never contemplated the implications of the world changing around her, or even noticed.

* * *

Anya wondered to herself as history re-wrote itself. It was odd that she was able to grant that particular wish. It had been wishful thinking that she even tried. It's not like Faith was... _Oh_.

* * *

"Why would I want to?" Buffy asked, consciously using the sentence as an attack on Spike's hopes, subconsciously hoping her heart would let her back in. 

"Because I was hoping you liked me, and wanted to be with me. In a non-sexual or beating the living daylights out of me sort of way."

Buffy's fists were clenched and she was shaking ever so slightly. The thought that Spike could ever be boyfriend material - or make such a weak, pathetic attempt at becoming boyfriend material - it just disgusted her. It infuriated her. It intrigued her.

_Shit, don't even think it._

They stood there as the sun was making it's presence known at the horizon. Spike was looking disheveled and filthy, covered in the rags of a blanket, staring at her. He was desperate for some sort of closure on their night before he burst into flames.

"Why do you hate me so much?"

That question caught Buffy by surprise. Her eyes closed for an excruciatingly long moment before she answered, never again looking at Spike's face.

"I don't hate you, Spike. I hate what I become when I'm with you."

Buffy turned and, with her eyes closed, walked away from Spike, softly chastizing herself. _What kind of monster had she turned into?_

Spike watched for a few moments and then degectedly returned to his crypt.


End file.
